Calleth You Cometh I
by TTTGF
Summary: Hotch & Emily meet while Hotch is working for Emily's mother. What happens when they meet up again at the BAU? The twist: every FFN genre will be represented by one chapter each. Hotchityhotchhotch writes even chapters, SussiRay writes odds. AH/CRACKFIC.
1. Prologue:  A New Friend

**A/N: Welcome to the hotchityhotchhotch and SussiRay collab fic "Calleth You, Cometh I" (song by The Ark, check it out). **

**The premise is fairly simple, but should still be interesting. This will be a slight AU H/P fic with an emerging romance, however, the twist is that each chapter will be done in one of the 21 genres FFN has to choose from, basically one chapter will be poetry, one will be romance, one will be drama, etc. We will be taking turns writing every other chapter, I (SussiRay) will write uneven chapters and hotchityhotchhocth will take even chapters. So this might turn into something totally awesome or it might turn into a completely insane crackfic. Either way we sure hope that you will all be along for the ride!**

**Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Neither of us sadly owns Criminal Minds, we do however both plan on 'borrowing' TG someday…**

* * *

**Genre: Friendship**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

"Agent Hotchner?" Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss' short and precise voice cut through the air and prompted Agent Aaron Hotchner to turn around to meet her demanding eyes.

It was a rather prestigious assignment he had landed, doing security clearances for a US ambassador, but he really could have done without having to spend so much time in the presence of the Ambassador. She was in all honesty a rather frightening woman.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, as he spun around to face her. Not expecting to see anyone with the Ambassador, he was caught off guard by the young woman, the very beautiful young woman, standing next to what he was certain must be her mother. He knew that Ambassador Prentiss had a daughter. He just hadn't expected to get to meet her. Or that she would be so…pretty.

"Agent Hotchner," Elizabeth Prentiss said, "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Emily, she's home from Yale for the week."

He extended his hand, "Miss Prentiss." She took his proffered hand in her own, giving him a wide, dazzling smile. "Agent Hotchner," she said, "please, it's Emily." He returned her smile, albeit maybe not quite as widely. Quickly he fell into a silent debate with himself whether it would be appropriate for him to call his employer's daughter by anything other than Miss Prentiss. When he realized that he must have been quiet, still holding her hand in his, for a good minute or two he quickly let go, spluttering something about not wanting to over-step any boundaries as she watched him, an amused smile lingering on her lips.

"Ma'am," he said, giving Ambassador Prentiss a quick nod as he gathered what was left of his wits. "Miss Prentiss." He turned back to Emily, his lips quirking in a slight smile, before hurrying off through the front door.

* * *

"Hard at work?"

The softly flowing voice reached Aaron's ears, as he sat hunched over a file by the desk in the study he had been allocated to do his work in. He looked up, turning his attention to young woman standing in the doorway. "Miss Prentiss," he said, giving her a smile, as he got up from his seat. He had been hoping to get to meet her again and here she was, leaning against the doorframe with her hand on her hip.

"Agent Hotchner," Emily gave him a smile back. "Did I not tell you to call me Emily, last time we met?" she asked, arching a slim eyebrow at him.

"You did," he said, shifting a bit uncomfortably under her curious gaze. She had this twinkle in her eye, as if she was plotting something and he just had this feeling that he would be part of whatever plans she had made. "I just didn't know whether the Ambassador would find that appropriate or not."

"Oh," Emily chuckled, "I really don't think that she would care what you call me as long as you do your job. Are you doing your job, Agent?" He nodded. "Then I am sure that you may call me Emily…Please," she gave him another one of her perfect white smiles, "it feels really odd being called Miss Prentiss by someone my own age."

"Alright… Emily," he said, "then please call me Aaron."

"Aaron," Emily said, drawing out the syllables, rolling the name around in her mouth, testing it. "You don't really strike me as an Aaron," she said, laughing a little. "Sorry," she added quickly, giving his forearm a squeeze, "it's a really nice name… it's just a bit… old, not _bad_ old… not ancient, I mean, it'll come in very handy when you're fifty…"

He looked at her, in a confused silence, as her rambling slowly died down. She laughed nervously. It was the first time he had seen her look anything but completely confident. He found that he liked the little wrinkle appearing just above her nose. "Sorry, sorry…" she said, "I am so jamming my foot in my big mouth right now, aren't I?"

He shook his head, still slightly dazed, that this person he hardly knew—he knew her name, who her parents was and that she went to Yale and that was it—was telling him in great depths what she thought of his name. He smiled. Again, somehow he knew that this was someone he wouldn't forget that quickly. "It's okay, I don't mind," he said. "What do you want to call me then?"

"Hmmm," Emily hummed, "Hotchner…" she paused a second, thinking, "no, that's a bit too long, and it's kind of a tongue bender, you need something shorter, something snappy."

"Snappy?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, you know, catchy, easy to remember, something like… something like Hotch!" Emily smiled widely as the name left her lips.

"Hotch," he said, "are you sure?"

"Yes!" Emily smiled, "It suits you, it really does, you do look just like a Hotch."

* * *

"Hey, Hotch!"

Aaron spun around in the drive way, as the by now familiar voice called out his new nickname. She had made perfectly sure to call him that every time that had run into each other over the last week and quite frankly it was beginning to grow on him. He still wasn't sure if he liked the name because he liked the sound of it or because he liked the sound of her saying it.

"Hi, Emily," he said, pulling his briefcase from the backseat and locking the dark sedan before making his way over to her. "What are you up to today?" He asked as they began walking towards the Prentiss's mansion.

"Packing," Emily said, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Oh, right," Aaron said, "the week is over and you have to go back to college." He sighed almost unnoticeably. In the week that he had known Emily Prentiss he had really got used to having her around. He actually really liked having her around. She always knew how to brighten up a dull day, only by being there. Her dry wit matched his perfectly and he could tell that her dedication to school matched his for his work, and her friendly, chatty personality complemented his quieter, more serious nature really well. "It's been really fun getting to know you," he said. He didn't really know what else to say and they weren't really close enough for him to ask if he could call her.

"How long did you say you'd be working for my mother?" She stopped, grabbing his arm.

"Until September," he answered, "why?"

"Well, I'll be back after graduation," she said, giving him a smile, "I've decided to stay here while I'm deciding my future, so you are not quite rid of me yet. I'll be yours all summer."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for reading, hope you enjoyed. Please leave us a review if you have the time.**


	2. The Help

**A/N: This is hotchityhotchhotch here. Sorry this took so long to write! Normally updating quickly is not an issue for me, but this story with its unique setup and AU aspect takes a different kind of thinking, I suppose.**

**Some reviewers wondered about Haley. We can tell you that she will be in the story but that her character's time line will be different. **

**One more thing: While each chapter will have a unique genre, there will be overarching themes of romance and humor. **

**Genre: Humor**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

* * *

"Working hard or hardly working?" a familiar, rich voice said to Hotch's left. He jumped out of his half-sleep and saw Emily standing at the open driver's side window of his surveillance vehicle parked at the end of her mother's driveway.

"E—Emily, wow!" he said brightly. "You're back." He met her dark, excited eyes for only a second before she disappeared from view. He turned his head and saw her walking toward the back of the car from his side view mirror. She reappeared in the passenger seat as if it were the most normal thing in the world to hop into a surveillance vehicle with an FBI agent who worked for her mother.

"Miss me?" Emily said with a smirk.

"Well, it has been a little more boring, I can say that much," Hotch replied.

"Apparently," Emily said. "Sleeping on the job, I see." She gave him a chiding look.

"I was _not_ sleeping. I was resting my eyes."

"I just graduated form Yale. Don't insult my intelligence."

"Ooh, snobby about your alma mater already, are you?" Hotch tucked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat again, wondering only fleetingly whether it was appropriate for Emily to be in the car with him. She _was_ an adult. They weren't doing anything inappropriate, just chatting…

"Hey, Yale was the one thing in my life that wasn't handed to me. I got in on my own good grades, took out loans—"

"You footed the bill yourself?" Hotch asked, cocking his head Emily's way.

"Yeah. I wanted to start doing things for myself. When you move around all the time as a kid, your parents try to make up the emotional struggle with other things—gifts, stuff like that…I never really felt like I got anything on my own. They always tried to make things almost too easy for me."

"Hmm."

"What? Sorry, did that sound kind of self-righteous?" Emily said hastily. "Wow, it did."

"Just a bit," Hotch said, grinning and holding his forefinger and thumb close together.

"Wow, I haven't seen you in what, two and a half months, and I make a total ass of myself right off the bat," Emily said offhandedly. "And I have a dirty mouth all of a sudden."

Hotch just smiled into the sunlight and let Emily find her way out of the hole she'd dug.

"Let's talk about something else besides what a schmuck I am," Emily said eagerly, rotating in her seat and tucking a foot underneath her.

"All right. How was the rest of the semester?"

"Good, good," Emily said with a slow nod. "Only had to sleep with one of my professors this time," she said offhandedly.

Hotch knew the second his head jerked to the side again that Emily was joking, but two or so months away from her had made him forget about how cavalier her humor was. It was much like his, albeit a little more uncouth, so he wasn't sure why it was so surprising to him.

"So now what?"

"Now what, _what_?"

"Going to look for a job?" Hotch asked. "I hear the ice cream places are hiring for the summer."

"Funny. I hear the mall is looking for rent-a-cops." Emily laughed at her own joke and Hotch, his ego undeniably bruised a little at her jab, just rolled his eyes and tried not to smile.

"When did you get back, anyway?" Hotch asked suddenly. "Why didn't you didn't come back right after commencement with your parents?"

"Had some…parties to attend. Look out your door," Emily said.

"Look out my—?" Hotch leaned out his window a bit and saw two duffel bags sitting on the driveway. "So your first stop was to come bug me?"

"And make you help me unload my car. There's plenty more where that came from," Emily said.

"I'm not relieved for another hour," Hotch said.

"Oh, come on. You were sleeping until I came and woke you up. You weren't doing any better of a job _then_ than you would be helping me unpack."

"I was _resting my eyes_."

"Come on," Emily said with confidence, getting out of the car and shutting her door. When Hotch didn't immediately follow, she leaned into the window, clutching the top of the car with her hands. "Come on," she repeated.

"In an hour," Hotch said firmly, smiling straight out through the windshield. Emily sighed. "In an hour," he said again. He glanced in her direction, but that was a mistake. She had to have picked out that low-cut blouse just to torture him. She _knew_ he was single—relationship status had come up in conversation before she'd left for school after her spring break. And he knew _she_ was single. At least, as of her leaving, she had been. Was she really trying to seduce him?

Emily considered telling Hotch her eyes were "up here" but decided against it. She couldn't purposely torture him and then tease him about his reaction. That would just be too cruel. "Fine. I'll come back out in an hour." Emily started walking away.

"Wait, Emily," Hotch called.

She walked slowly back to the car. "Yes?"

"You forgot your duffle bags."

"Oh no, that's your job," she said with a cheeky grin.

—

"I'm not going to lie. I feel uncomfortable," Hotch murmured to Emily when they got the first load of her belongings up to her room. He'd only ever been in the Ambassador's office and his own "office," really. But now he was upstairs in one of several bedrooms that sat inside the gargantuan home, with a boxful of Emily's books.

"Why?" Emily asked incredulously. "You've been in the house a million times," she said as she heaved a heavy garment bag onto her bed.

"Not in your room, though." Hotch setting the box down on the floor at the foot of Emily's bed.

"Hotch, seriously. It's not like I'm twelve. I'm allowed to have boys in my room."

"Boys that work for your mother?"

"I'm sure she'd rather I sleep with you than the gardener," Emily said with a shrug of her shoulders on her way back out of the room. She patted Hotch on the shoulder as she passed. Hotch's eyes grew wide in fright at the idea of anyone having heard that. As terrified as he was, though, the man in him couldn't help but imagine what sleeping with her might be like. Amazing, he was sure. But also highly inappropriate. "Oh, Mother, hello!" Emily chirped.

"Mother" was one of the last words Hotch wanted to hear after the lewd remark Emily had just made.

"Hello, dear. I didn't know you'd arrived. Hello, Agent Hotchner. What exactly are you—"

"He's helping me unpack. And don't worry, he refused fifty times but I told him if he didn't listen to me, I'd get him fired." Emily smiled at her bewildered mother and kissed her on the cheek.

"Yes, well, as long as you understand she's completely…full of it, for lack of a better term, Agent Hotchner," Ambassador Prentiss said with a slight grin.

"Fully understood, ma'am," Hotch said with a serious nod.

"Oh, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Elizabeth? You've been here how many months now?"

"Not enough to call you by your first name, ma'am," Hotch said with a respectful smile, his hands tucked neatly behind his back.

"Well, don't let Emily keep you here. If you're off duty, feel free to stop working." She gave her daughter a reproachful look.

"I don't mind helping," Hotch insisted. He followed Emily to the front of the house to get more of her things.

"_Not enough to call you by your first name, ma'am_," Emily mocked in a deep voice when they got back out to her car.

"This job _does_ demand a certain level of respect," Hotch said, accepting the suitcase Emily passed him from her trunk. And another.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Emily moaned. "Stay for dinner," she said out of nowhere.

"What? No, I can't."

"Oh come on," Emily said, walking back up the sprawling driveway to the front door. "Big feast tonight to celebrate my return."

"All the more reason not to."

"Oh, it's nothing formal. I'm still wearing jeans," Emily said. "Just more food than usual. _And_ more booze. My dad will get sloshed, my mother will roll her eyes and only stay at the table for an hour, tops, so she can go hide in her office again, and we can sit and enjoy ourselves."

"Sounds like a blast," Hotch said, "but I think I'll pass. Thank you, though. It just feels a bit inappropriate."

"Tell me something," Emily said when they arrived at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped in her tracks and Hotch almost ran into her.

"What?"

"Are you a gentleman?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Well, it isn't very gentlemanly to turn down a dinner invitation from a lady, is it?" Emily raised her eyebrows at Hotch as if to dare him to refuse her offer again.

"I doubt your parents want _the help_ at dinner with them," Hotch said once they got to Emily's room again.

"_The help?_ Are you serious? You are not _the help. _And for the record, the housekeepers do eat with us from time to time. But you're an FBI agent. Your job is a little more important than dusting the curio cabinets."

"I'm still not family. This is an important occasion. You should just be with your family."

"Give me that," Emily said firmly, holding her hand out for a suitcase. She took it from him and set it on her closet floor. "Who cares if you're not family? You're my friend, aren't you?" She snatched the other suitcase out of his hand.

Hotch smiled. "I don't know, am I?"

"You let me give you a nickname," Emily pointed out.

"Okay…"

"So come to dinner as my friend."

—

Hotch had always been a rather confident person. He rarely doubted himself, rarely felt ill at ease, and if he did feel those things, he excelled at pretending he didn't. But he had a feeling that fate, destiny, God—someone or something—had put Emily in his path just to mess with him. He felt like a teenager meeting a date's parents for the first time, even though the only way he could picture dating Emily was in his imagination (and even there, the possibility of them being together was laughable). He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so nervous.

"Thanks again for helping out," Emily said with a smile as she and Hotch made their way to the dining room shortly after they had finished unpacking Emily's car.

"Of course."

"I hope you don't feel like I really forced you. I didn't think you'd mind."

"I didn't, at all," Hotch said honestly.

"Good. And I hope you don't mind coming to dinner."

"I do mind. I thought we'd established that," Hotch said dryly.

"Oh, lighten up. It's just food."

"With a United States Ambassador."

"Whom you see every day," Emily said.

"Who did _not_ invite me to dinner."

"But the guest of honor did. Trust me, she'll be fine with it."

"Yeah, right," Hotch murmured.

"Agent Hotchner, what a pleasant surprise," said Emily's mother, slightly bewildered, and just about to sit down at their long mahogany dining room table.

"I invited him to stay. It was the least I could do for him helping me unpack," Emily explained. She took a seat across from her mother.

"We're glad to have you."

"Agent Hotchner, nice to see you again. It's been a while," said Emily's father, extending a hand across Emily. Hotch shook it.

"Please, sir, call me Aaron. Thank you for having me."

"Our pleasure," Mr. Prentiss said jovially.

Hotch seemed so anxious that Emily decided not to purposefully embarrass him during dinner. Conversation was light and sparse. Emily's graduation from Yale was brought up, as were her foggy plans for her future, but neither conversation went very deep.

Mr. Prentiss, a little sweaty and pink in the face, excused himself for another drink not long after his wife had left the table; he never came back.

"See, that was painless," Emily said consolingly once they were alone. She poured herself another glass of wine and offered some to Hotch as well.

"No, thanks. I have to drive home, remember?" Hotch took a sip of water instead.

"You mean you don't want to spend the night?"

Hotch choked on his water and beat at his chest when he couldn't get the water up with two coughs.

Emily giggled in a self-satisfied way next to him. He gave her the stink eye and sat back in his chair. "So do you antagonize your mother all the time?" he asked after a pause, his eyes still watering.

"Eh, once in a while I get in the mood to see her squirm."

"So you're using me to bother your mother. Great."

"Ohh, did you think I _really_ liked you? That's so cute," Emily said in a pitiful tone, laying a hand across Hotch's back.

Hotch looked only mildly amused when he turned to her. She flashed him a pearly smile and, without thinking, leaned in and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Friends help friends drive their mothers crazy, right?"

Hotch, his face lit on fire, nodded. "I suppose. Then I've fulfilled my duties as a friend?"

"Unless you want to be friends with benefits," Emily said flippantly. "Man, you get worked up easily," she said, chuckling, when Hotch's expression went from surprised at her kiss to terrified at her proposal.

"You're…"

"Crazy? I know. Everyone at school was always so uptight, and I'm ambitious too, don't get me wrong, but I can only take so much peace and quiet and boredom. And when I come home it's usually the same thing, just in a damn mansion instead of a dorm room or an apartment."

"So you're not always this crazy?"

"You sounded hopeful when you asked that," Emily said slowly.

"Did I? I didn't mean to. I could use some crazy in my life."

"Good. Because we have four months to pack in all the crazy before you leave."

_We?_ Hotch thought. "You don't think you'll maybe leave before I do? What if you find a job?"

Emily shrugged and tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder. "We'll see. This might be one of those 'find myself' types of summers."

"Ah, I remember those," Hotch said, leaning back in his seat again and closing his eyes. "I miss those."

"Oh, come on, you're not that much older than I am. Don't try to make me feel like a kid. What are you, twenty-eight?"

"Twenty-seven, but thanks," Hotch said. "You can't be older than twenty-two if you just finished college. You did only take four years, right?"

"Paying my own way? You bet I finished in four years. Tried to make it three, but I decided I wanted to have a life while I was there and not be studying twenty-four-seven."

"So you _are_ twenty-two?"

"I thought you said you were a gentleman," Emily said sneakily.

"Ah, that I did. Then I rescind my question about your age."

"Good boy." Emily shot him her best set of bedroom eyes over the rim of her wine glass.

"I'd better get going," Hotch sighed. Emily, pouting behind Hotch's back, followed him to the front door. It wasn't until this moment, in last sliver of sunlight, that she appreciated the way his long bangs tickled his forehead. Her fingers begged to run through his thick brown hair, but she controlled them for now.

Although she was unsure about her future, unsure about so many things, she was one hundred percent certain that she would eventually give in to her baser instincts if he didn't first. Maybe he was a little older, but not too old. And maybe he did work for her mother, but not directly. He was assigned to her. There had to be a difference.

"What?" Hotch said as they both stood right outside the doorway.

"You spilled red sauce on your tie," Emily said. She'd been holding onto that one all throughout dinner in case she needed a distraction. And the way she stared at him longingly right now definitely warranted some sort of distraction so her cover wasn't blown.

Hotch quickly grabbed his tie. "I did. How long ago did you notice?"

"After your first bite."

"What did I ever do to you?"

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Much lighter humor than I normally write, for those of you who read my other fanfic. But it's a completely different dynamic since they're younger and hardly know each other. **

**SussiRay will be writing the next chapter. The genre will remain a secret until it's posted! **

**Please leave a review if you have time :)**


	3. Run Hotch Run!

**Genre: Adventure**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

"Whatcha doin'?"

Hotch didn't even need to look up to see the smile playing across her lips. He could hear it perfectly clear in her voice. He had also spent enough time with her over the last few weeks to in a way sense when she was up to something. And he was definitely getting that feeling from her now.

Glancing at her through the corner of his eye he shot her a quick "I'm working" and returned his eyes to the manila folder on the desk in front of him.

"Working with what?"

He heard her take a few steps towards him. "It seems your mother is hiring a new personal chef and I am making sure that he is not really an assassin trying to kill you and your family with undercooked chicken."

Emily laughed. "Hmm, I don't know whether I'm a good or a bad influence on you," she said, smiling and taking a seat on the edge of his desk, "did you make jokes about your assignments before you met me?"

"You know, I don't know," Hotch laughed, turning and giving her a look of mock contemplation, "I can't seem to remember my life before I met you. You've turned my world upside down."

"I try my best," Emily said, patting his shoulder. "So you want to accompany me on a little shopping trip when you're done for the day? When are you done, by the way?"

Hotch glanced at his wrist watch. Almost five pm. He was usually free to leave at five, but he wanted to finish before going anywhere with Emily. "Give me another hour and then I'm all yours," Hotch said, smiling. He had been careful, only spending time with Emily when he wasn't officially working, and The Ambassador had said nothing about him spending time with her daughter. So he no longer thought twice when Emily wanted them to do something. Honestly the last few weeks with Emily had been the most fun he'd had in a long time. Just being around her would brighten any day.

"Alrighty," Emily smiled, "I'm holding you to that."

* * *

"You are being serious right now?" Hotch asked, eyeing Emily with mounting trepidation.

"Of course I am," Emily said, "when do I ever joke around?"

"All the time."

"Okay… well, I am one hundred percent serious right now," Emily said, her lips betraying her as they curved into a smile. "Come on, Hotch. It'll be fun…"

"For whom?"

"For me of course," Emily laughed, "look Hotch, I say this as nicely as possible, but you can be a bit uptight sometimes… you just need to let loose a bit. And what better way to do that than to buy fun stuff from a cashier that's been drooling since you walked in here." She looked over at the slightly older woman sitting behind the counter. "I tell you what, I'll even let you choose. They are for you after all. So what'll it be, flavored or glow-in-the-dark?"

"I am not getting out of this, am I?" Hotch asked to which Emily smiled and shook her head. "Fine," he said, holding out his hand, "give me the flavored ones. They're the lesser of two evils."

"Yup," Emily smiled, "then she'll just think that you want to taste better for your girl." Hotch stopped, his shoulders rising and sinking as he drew a deep breath, before he continued on to the cashier. Emily smiled as she watched him place the little box in front of the woman who immediately gave him an approving leer. Emily had to clamp a hand over her mouth not to burst into screeching laughter as she saw Hotch's shoulders almost touching his ears as he shook his head when the woman said something to him.

Emily almost felt sorry for Hotch as he trudged over to her, one hand clutching the little paper bag, the other shoved into his pocket. She just wanted him to have some fun. Maybe making him buy novelty condoms from a woman who was old enough to be his mother but still eying him like he was a piece of meat was more fun for her than him.

"Here," Hotch said, shoving the paper bag at her, "you take them."

"Me?" Emily asked, "what am I supposed to do with them?

"Hey, what you do in your spare time is none of my business," Hotch deadpanned. Emily was about to protest when she saw the corner of his mouth twitching.

She laughed and shared a smile with him, but she couldn't help but however briefly think about Hotch and her making the most of his purchase. They were just friends. But if she had said that she wasn't a little attracted to him she would have been a big fat liar. No woman in her right mind wouldn't consider Hotch smoking hot. But they were just friends.

"Are you hungry?" Hotch asked, making Emily return her focus back onto him.

"Little bit, yeah," she answered.

"Alright then," Hotch said, taking her by the arm and redirecting their steps towards the food court, "let's feed you."

* * *

"Hotch?" Emily said, poking Hotch in the forearm, trying hard to ignore just how firm the muscles felt under her finger. He lifted his eyes from the burger he was devouring and raised an eyebrow at her. "Uhm, there's a guy over there," she pointed at the line to the ice cream counter, "he's been uhm… looking at me for a while now. It's kinda creeping me out."

Hotch followed her finger, trying to spot who she was pointing at. There were at least ten guys in the line and none of them were looking her way. He turned back to Emily. "Who do you mean?"

"Him!" Emily said, pointing at a man twice Hotch's size, "that bucket of steroids in the white t-shirt."

Hotch swallowed. He cared for Emily, he wanted her to be safe, but that was one huge man. Never the less the FBI agent in him started assessing the situation, "Are you sure he has been looking at you?" he asked.

"Of course I'm sure," Emily said, "he keeps looking at me. Do something. Tell him I'm taken, tell him that you're my boyfriend… Ooh, and flash him the gun, that will scare him off. "

"I'm not going to show him my gun," Hotch said, as he slowly pushed his chair back, "but I will tell him as nicely as possible that you aren't interested." Walking across the food court he couldn't help but notice that the guy got even more impossibly huge as he got closer. He also noticed that he was indeed looking towards Emily with a look in his eyes that Hotch did not care for.

"Excuse me," he said, tapping the shoulder of the boulder-like man as he came up behind him.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry," Hotch said again, thinking it was best to be as polite as possible, "but you have been making my friend uncomfortable."

"Huh?"

"The brunette over at that table," Hotch said, throwing a look over his shoulder at Emily, "she told me that you've been looking at her and frankly it is making her uncomfortable."

"Mind your own business, buddy," the huge man said, turning back around, but not before giving Emily another look.

"I'm sorry," Hotch said, "but this is my business. That is my girlfriend and you are making her uncomfortable and I am asking nicely that you stop."

"Hey, little man," boulder-man huffed, poking Hotch in the chest, "if I want to look at a pretty girl I will and there is nothing that you can do to stop me. Now fuck off."

"You know I can't do that," Hotch said and gave the man one of his most lethal glares, reaching into his pocket to pull out his credentials. He would flash the jerk his badge and maybe he could scare him enough to leave Emily alone. Feeling around in suit pocket without any luck he cursed himself. He'd been in a hurry to leave, wanting to have as much time with Emily as possible, and apparently he'd left without his badge. Well, wasn't that just perfect!

A rustling prompted him to turn his eyes back to the man in front of him just in time for him to spot the two giant hands flying towards him. Reflexes kicking in made him duck out of the way, and the shove that was intended for him landed on an unsuspecting victim just behind him instead. The poor man fell, but that didn't stop the other man from taking another swing at Hotch.

"Hotch!" He heard Emily calling his name as he ducked the other man's fist. "Run Hotch!" Looking up he saw mall security personnel hurrying towards them. Seeing as he was now just some guy, with no credentials but with a concealed weapon, he quickly decided that Emily was right; he should indeed run for it.

Running across the food court he slowed down momentarily to grab Emily by the elbow and throw a look over his shoulder. One of the security guards had noticed his dash for freedom and was, fortunately rather slowly, making his way towards them.

"Come on!" Emily said, taking him by the hand and pulling him along across the tiled floor, sprinting past shop after shop. Dodging between families on their way to the food court, teenagers window shopping and couples walking hand-in-hand, Hotch could feel his heart racing in his chest. He could see his supervisor's grim look in front of him as he was told that one of his newest agents had been detained by a mall cop. Shooting another glance over his shoulder he couldn't see the security guard but he still kept running, tugged along by Emily.

"In here!" Emily exclaimed, yanking his arm so hard he was afraid he was going to hear his shoulder pop.

Breathing heavily from the running and the adrenaline he watched as Emily closed the door behind them. Spinning around he noticed the stalls and pink walls and he turned to Emily, hissing under his breath; "This is the ladies room!"

"Yeah," Emily said, taking Hotch by the hand pulling him into one of the stalls, "and you are really lucky that it was empty. Now let's wait here a while and I'm sure we'll be able to walk out of here undetected and you will avoid an awkward conversation with your boss."

"Thanks," Hotch said. Shifting a bit and glancing down he realized just how close they were standing and that he could see right down her shirt. Just friends, he told himself as he tore his eyes from the expanse of pale skin peeking through her red tank top.

"Hotch," Emily said. Looking at her expecting to be told off for staring at her chest he was surprised when she tilted her head, giving him a slight smile, and said; "sorry, Hotch, I think that was my fault."

"Why would any of this be your fault?" Hotch asked, sincerely surprised. She hadn't told that mountain to swing at him.

"I should have just ignored that guy, it wasn't a big deal."

"Of course it was a big deal, he made you feel uncomfortable," Hotch said, rubbing Emily's arm without really thinking about it. "I will always be around to thump any guy bothering you," he added with a grin.

Emily laughed. "Thanks," she said. Noticing Hotch's thumb gliding along her forearm she cleared her throat. Just friends, she thought to herself. She took his arm and checked his watch, almost nine, they had probably been in that stall a good ten minutes. "You know, I think the coast might be clear," she said, slowly opening the door. "We should probably go home before mall security sends a search party for you."

* * *

"Well, that was an…uhm… adventurous day," Hotch said, breaking the silence as he made the right turn onto the, by now deserted, highway leading to the Prentiss' mansion.

"A little more so than I had intended, but all's well that ends well," Emily said, giving Hotch a wide smile.

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review!  
**


	4. The Hunted

**Genre: Horror**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

* * *

"Getting foggy," Emily remarked not long after Hotch pulled out onto the highway. An eerie mist was settling over the road, cutting visibility down to nearly nothing.

"Yeah, odd…"

"And dark kind of early."

"Well, it is cloudy," Hotch said. Ha glanced at Emily in his peripheral vision and saw her chin propped up on her hand, her forehead touching her window. "You all right?"

"Hmm?" Emily snapped out of whatever daze she was in. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About what?" Hotch asked casually.

"Nothing, really," Emily lied, shrugging. _Only about how being crammed inside a bathroom stall with you gave me the chills, and they still haven't gone away. You touched my fucking arm and I'll remember that more than the last time I had sex._

And with that, a torrent of rain fell from the sky without warning. Hotch fumbled to turn the wiper blades on in time to see.

"Hey, is that a—" Emily said a few minutes later as they drove right past a man standing on the side of the highway with his thumb stuck out.

"A hitchhiker? Yes. And I never pick them up," Hotch said decisively.

Emily had no problem being blunt with Hotch most times, and now was absolutely no exception. "Well, that makes you sound kind of like an asshole. Come on, Hotch, it just started pouring."

"Then the next guy can stop for him. Do you know how dangerous hitchhikers can be?"

"He looked perfectly harmless."

"They all do," Hotch said with a sardonic glance.

"If you go back and pick the poor guy up, I'll blow you," Emily announced. She laughed when she felt the car jerk slightly, either from Hotch braking or accelerating—she couldn't tell.

"Fine. If it means that much to you, I'll go back. But not so you'll…you know…"

"Say it," Emily said with a dirty grin. She wished she had some gum to chew on—it would have perfected the naughty little demeanor she had going.

"No. That's not a gentlemanly thing to say," Hotch said distractedly as he made a U-turn.

"I did _not_ call you for a prude. Boy, was I wrong," Emily murmured teasingly.

"There's a difference between being a prude and being a gentleman," Hotch said.

"Jury's still out on whether you're a prude because you can't say 'blow me.' But, for the record, you turning around to pick up that poor guy is a gentlemanly thing to do."

"Why thanks," Hotch's dry voice rumbled. He stopped across the road from the lone traveler, who waved and looked both ways before trotting across the empty four-lane highway with a large pack on his back. Hotch rolled down his window. "Where're you headed?"

"Landover," the man said, crouching to meet Hotch eye to eye. He looked like a remarkably ordinary man, but that did nothing to quell Hotch's uneasiness. He remembered all too late that his gun was in the glove box. He had decided upon leaving the mall that he couldn't risk getting pulled over with a gun on his hip and no identification. But to get it out now would be tactless if not downright dangerous, depending on the nature of the stranger.

"We're…not going quite that far," Hotch said. "Only to D.C."

Emily punched Hotch in the shoulder and leaned over his lap. "But we can take you as far as we're going," Emily said. "Climb in."

While their new passenger boarded and dragged his pack in after him to sit behind Emily, Emily remained hovering over Hotch. He gave her an irritated look. She leaned in quite close to him, waited for his eyes to fog up and flutter shut in anticipation, and then sat herself back down, basking in the effect she knew she had on him. Boy, was he wrapped around her little finger. A badge and a gun (although he didn't have either on his person) were no match for her sexual prowess.

"What's your name?" Hotch asked in an effort to be friendly as he turned around to head east once again.

"George. Thanks so much for the ride."

"No problem. What left you standing out in the rain?" Hotch asked. "Car break down?"

The man paused before he answered. "Yeah. I'd already been walkin' a couple miles when it started getting' foggy, then the rain hit and I saw your lights."

"What's wrong with your car?" Emily asked, turning to look behind her, at George.

He smiled halfheartedly. "Transmission totally blew out. I figure if I can get to my brother's place in Landover, I can crash there for the night and he can help me check it out in the morning, get it towed."

"It's going to need to be towed either way," Hotch pointed out.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Emily said with little patience for Hotch's rudeness. "It's not like we have a phone to call for a tow truck anyway. Let's just bring him to his brother's place. It's not that far out of the way."

"Thank you, Miss," George said from the backseat, nodding briefly. "I appreciate it."

"Don't mind him," Emily said, glaring at Hotch. "He has no manners."

Hotch rolled his eyes, then kept them on the increasingly invisible road. He slowed down gradually, unfamiliar with this particular highway and wanting to play it safe. "Shit," he muttered after a long silence.

"What?" Emily asked, looking over at the instrument panel.

"Really low on gas," Hotch said. "You know, you never have a full tank of gas in your car," he added to Emily.

"My car, my problem, not yours. There's a gas station in about a mile, I think."

"Yes, sir, she's right," George piped in.

"Good. Maybe you can call for that tow truck while we're—" Hotch grunted when Emily's fist hit his gut. "_What?_"

"We're driving him as far as he needs to go. For Pete's sake, stop being such an ass."

"_Fine_," Hotch mumbled. "Can you keep the physical violence to a minimum, please?" Suddenly he felt overwrought with guilt. This poor stranger had done nothing to deserve the treatment Hotch had given him. "I'm sorry, George. I'm just a little…hyper vigilant sometimes."

"Hitchhikers, I get it," George said offhandedly. "Gotta be careful." And just as suddenly as Hotch felt guilty for being inhospitable, he felt chills rush down his spine at George's last words. He didn't say another thing, though, and neither did anyone else. The rain beat down on the windshield harder than ever.

"There it is," Emily said as they approached a generic gas station.

Hotch had a hard time even finding the entrance off the road; the rain was falling in sheets now, cutting visibility even further as it bounced off the hood of the car. As he pulled up to a gas pump, a quick decision had to be made. He certainly didn't want to leave Emily alone in the car with this man neither of them knew, but at the same time, he couldn't ask her to go out in the pouring rain to pump gas and pay for it. George would certainly find such a lack of chivalry a bit off. If he was indeed a dangerous person, then the latter option would tip him off to Hotch's wariness, which could only be a bad thing. If both Hotch and Emily got out of the car, one to pump gas, and one to pay, that would look almost equally suspicious, like Hotch didn't trust the man alone with either one of them. And again, making Emily go outside in the rain would still be a dick move in George's eyes.

The best Hotch could hope for was that the man wasn't dangerous at all, but that Emily was prepared for the possibility. Thinking fast, he put the car into park and leaned over to Emily. She looked at him, frowning, but her expression softened when he snuck his lips to her ear and whispered into it.

But the audible kiss he left at her temple, surely as some sort of show for George, though she didn't know why, had no lasting effect. It was followed by a whisper that made her heart thud, and not in a good way. "Don't ask questions. My gun is in the glove box. You don't have to know how to use it, but if anything seems fishy, just let him know you're armed. Okay?" Hotch realized he'd been talking to Emily far too long for it to look to George like a simple affectionate gesture. Hating himself for it, he added, "Kiss me. Just do it." He saw the sheer terror in Emily's eyes before he laid a soft kiss on her lips, which she accepted obediently. An amalgam of fear and ecstasy made for an interesting floating feeling. "Be right back," he said to them both, smiling. He silently prayed that he was worried over absolutely nothing, that the chills George had given him meant nothing more than the fact that he, Hotch, was trained in hyper vigilance and was letting his work bleed a little too much into the real world. His jacket was soaked through in less than a minute. He tried not to be obvious with his occasional glances through the window as he filled up the gas tank (he'd also decided that, although it would shorten the amount of time Emily was alone in the car with this man, only putting a few dollars in the tank would also seem odd to George). He could see their mouths moving, though over the splashing rain he couldn't hear anything they said. He made his way quickly inside to pay.

"Hey," said a man not much younger than Hotch, behind the counter with a baseball cap stuck on backwards.

"Hey," Hotch said, digging out his wallet.

The phone rang from a back room. "One sec," the clerk said.

"Can't you ring me up first?" Hotch asked, but by the time he was halfway through his sentence, the clerk was gone. Hotch sighed impatiently, then caught the noise of a small television above his head. With nothing better to do, he backed up and glanced outside quickly, just to make sure nothing seemed unusual. Deciding that was the case, he checked out the television screen.

"Expect at least two inches of rainfall over the next few hours. Flood advisories are in effect through tomorrow afternoon. Now to Chuck…" Hotch's attention was torn temporarily from the screen when the clerk came out of the back room.

"Sorry, man," the clerk said, operating the register to figure out how much money was owed.

"…thought to be armed. He is the prime suspect in four murders over the past two days. The murders took place in two separate instances, both involving a couple whose bodies were found in wooded areas not far away from their abandoned vehicles. The police are warning anyone who crosses this man's path to call local authorities immediately—do _not_ approach him." Hotch backed up again and looked up at the screen. Just as he did, the news program showed a composite sketch of a man who looked shockingly like the man who sat in the back seat of the car. Hotch gulped. As casually as possible, but with his face set, he strode back out to the car.

"Dude, what the hell?" the clerk called through the doorway, but apparently not concerned enough about the theft to go out into the rain. "I'm calling the cops if you don't get back in here and pay up!"

Now he had absolutely no idea what to do. There were no remotely good options. He could open the passenger door and pull Emily out, but where would they go? The element of surprise wouldn't last long enough for him to get his gun out of the glove box. And what if George (if that was even his real name) had a gun? Distance wouldn't equal safety. As Hotch was scrounging for other alternatives, the sight before him made him realize what a grave mistake he'd made. His breath caught in a giant lump in his throat.

George rolled his window down. "Get in and drive, or your pretty little girlfriend dies," he said simply, rolling his window back up immediately. Hotch saw the glimmer of the knife that was held to Emily's throat. Her eyes were closed by relaxed and her lip stretched across her face in a thin, taut line. Having no other choice, Hotch hurried to the driver's side and got behind the wheel again. "Turn around. Go back west," George said shortly.

"What do you want?" Hotch asked as simply as he could manage, but heeding George's orders at the same time.

"I want you to shut the fuck up and keep driving," George growled, his hand still hooked tightly around Emily's seat, the knife blade just touching her throat.

"I'll do absolutely anything you want," Hotch said in a panic, forgetting every bit of Academy training. "Please, don't hurt her."

"I'll do whatever the hell I want. You drive."

Hotch willed himself not to take more than a couple fleeting glances at Emily, though he could see her chest rising and falling rapidly in his peripheral vision. He drove for what must have been an hour in the same blinding, deafening rainstorm. before George suddenly said, "Here's good. Pull over." Once Hotch had done so, George said, "Good. Now get out. GET OUT!" he screamed when neither Hotch nor Emily moved for a moment. He'd relinquished his hold on Emily's neck so she could move freely.

Not sure whether it was allowed, but unable to care, Hotch enveloped Emily in his arms the second he met her after circling around the front of the car.

They both heard an indistinct mutter from George and looked up.

"I said, _run_."

Only for a moment, Emily glanced up at Hotch. She then took his hand and they tore off down the road together, splashing through puddles.

"Get off the road!" George bellowed behind them, though his voice sounded further away, meaning he hadn't followed them.

"Listen to him," Hotch panted, pulling Emily off the shoulder of the road and into some tall grass on mushy soil.

"What the fuck is going on?" Emily whimpered between labored breaths as they cut between a thickening wall of trees.

"I just saw his picture on the news at the gas station," Hotch answered, already finding himself out of breath, but not for lack of physical fitness.

"What has he done?"

Deciding now wasn't the best time to lie to protect Emily, Hotch answered honestly. "This. Twice in the last two days. No matter what happens, I need you listen to me, okay? Do whatever I tell you. Do you trust me?"

Emily squeezed the life out of Hotch's hand right before they heard a loud _crunch_ behind them.

"What was that?" Emily cried.

"He's not going to make it easy for the cops and leave the car at the side of the road," Hotch panted. "He drove it into the trees. Keep running."

"Adrenaline only lasts so long," Emily couldn't help but complain. "I'm a shit-ass runner, Hotch. Just so you know."

"Well, you're about to pick up a new hobby. Save your breath and just run. No more talking until I figure something out, okay?"

Emily swallowed the spit that had gathered in her mouth, then nodded. She let Hotch lead her into the dense forestry she didn't even know the area had to offer. Although they were both soaked to the bone already, at least the canopy sheltered them from a little of the rain.

After a couple of minutes that stretched into what felt like forever, they both silently wondered where on earth their hunter had gone.

"_Whooo-weeeee!"_ he cried, as if on cue, from a few hundred yards back. He'd apparently given them a minute or two's head start.

"Do you think—he can—see us?" Emily said between heaving breaths. She felt a side stitch coming on. "It's dark enough. Maybe we—can climb up a—tree or something."

"He probably hasn't let us out of his sight." Hotch felt Emily slowing down. "Keep up with me. You can do it."

"I'm trying, I swear. Your legs—are a lot longer than mine. Why don't we split up?"

"Not happening," Hotch said resolutely. He slowed down just enough to match Emily's pace, then veered off to the left. He knew they could each run faster if they let go of each other's hands, but he couldn't bear to do that. He felt as if the second he let go of her, she'd be snatched away from him, done for. What they needed was a place to hide. He had no idea where these woods ended, where they could find open land or other people.

Hotch strived to listen for George above the crackling underbrush, to somehow locate him. He was either taking slow steps or no longer moving at all, as far as Hotch could tell, because he didn't hear a sound between his and Emily's feet dragging through the leaves.

Someone up there _had_ to be listening, Hotch realized, spotting a cluster of four or five trees in a tight circle. "Over here," he rasped. When they reached the grouping, he helped Emily between the widest opening first, then followed behind her. "Sssshhh," he hissed, drawing a much-needed lungful of air right after that.

Emily dutifully hid in a corner, her back to two of the trees, and waited for Hotch to join her down in the mucky soil. And that he did, sitting right next to her and pulling her to his side.

"Where is he?" Emily whispered.

"I don't know. Hang on. Shh-shh…" Hoping Emily wouldn't take offense, Hotch covered her mouth with his hand to muffle out her ragged breaths. He heard nothing. No leaves crunching, no branches breaking, no birds flitting or talking. Just the rain. "I don't know where he went. Our best bet is to wait it out here."

_Screw bravery_, Emily said, burrowing her face into Hotch's chest, figuring it would at least give the added benefit of covering up the sound of her heavy breathing. His large hands felt even more so as he ran them up and down her damp back, luring her to sit sideways between his legs. Curled up into a tight ball together, they waited. Neither of their pulses fully settled, nor their breathing fully evened out, but they waited long enough to calm down considerably. The situation was no less terrifying, but at least they both seemed to gain control over their physical reactions as much as they could.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asked after an unknowable amount of time.

"As okay as I can be considering there's some sort of serial killer out there looking for us," Emily said dryly.

"I meant to ask whether you're hurt."

"I'm not hurt. Just get us out of here, please, somebody,"

"I won't let anything happen to you," Hotch said.

"Don't say that. That's not up to you," Emily argued. But at her protesting, Hotch just held her more forcefully.

"I mean it."

"Hotch, stop—"

"Look at me," he said so firmly that Emily had no choice but to acquiesce. Her eyes had adapted to the dark just barely enough to see Hotch's eyes zeroed in on hers.

"We'll be okay," he said, touching his lips to hers so softly that she wasn't sure whether he was trying to kiss her or trying to move in closer so she could hear him. A bit more certainty on his part answered that question for her and she surged into him, making not a single sound until their lips separated for the first time. She took the break in the kiss to slink her arms around his neck. A sigh sneaked its way past Hotch's lips before Emily found them again. They both knew damn well that this was not the best use of their resources, physically or mentally, but that fact couldn't unglue them from one another. His tongue snaked between her lips, not waiting for her to reciprocate. She did, opening up completely to him and running her tongue down the side of his, moaning minutely against him when he combed his fingers through the roots of her wet hair at the nape of her neck. A minute of this seemed to have a soothing effect that neither one of them had expected.

"Do you believe me now?" Hotch asked gently, his lips against her ear once more. She fell back into him again, not answering, drowsy out of nowhere.

"We can't stay here forever," she said after a while. "Maybe he ran right past where we turned off. Maybe we can get back to the road."

"He could just as easily be staked out right by us, waiting," Hotch countered.

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Emily whispered frantically.

"I think this guy gets off on the chase. He wants us to run. And he has the tools and the capability of catching us eventually. It isn't a matter of _if _he'll catch us, it's _when_. And what he'll do to us when he does. We need to stay put. The best we can hope for is that someone sees the car in the trees and sends the cops out to look for us. The longer we wait, the more bored he gets—"

"And the _angrier_ he gets, no?" Emily hissed.

"You said you trusted me, right?" Hotch asked.

"Actually, I never answered," she said stubbornly.

"Now's not the time to be cute, Emily. Trust me. Just trust me. Let's wait." Emily sighed and gave in.

"I'm sorry," Hotch said after several painfully quiet minutes.

"For what?"

"For leaving you alone in the car with him. For not keeping my gun on me. I made every mistake in the book."

"I'm the one who made you pick him up. Don't bother with your apologies. They're no good here." Emily felt for the arm that was around her waist, then ran her palm down it until she found Hotch's hand. "Is it my turn to reassure you?"

Hotch laughed into Emily's hair. "Maybe."

"So we wait," Emily said.

"We wait."

"Until what?"

"Until—hang on." They both held their breath at the crunching of leaves not too far away. It was the only sound besides the tapping of the rain on the leaves of the trees and the ground.

"Come on out, little love birds. Hiding's no fun. Unless you really are foolin' around in there, in which case, I hope you don't mind if I watch," he said with a bone-chilling grunting laugh. He was now only thirty feet from them at most, by Hotch's calculations.

Emily's heart thudded once again and she felt Hotch's do the same, as her ear was still pressed against his chest. She drew in as quiet of a breath as she could and held it, listening to the brush give way beneath George's feet as he approached. But the sound of more feet through the leaves sounded off in the distance. George seemed to stop in his tracks, which led Hotch and Emily to believe that the new footsteps were unexpected.

"Emily Prentiss!" yelled an authoritative voice.

Emily's first instinct was to yell back, but she ignored it, sealing her lips.

"Emily Prentiss!"

George seemed to weigh his options, then decided that the best one was to run for it. He either had lost the desire to make sure Hotch and Emily died by his hands, or didn't have the capability to do so quickly and still get away. His footsteps gave him away to somebody.

"Over here!" someone shouted back in the other direction.

Before Hotch could decide whether to reveal themselves to what appeared to be friendly faces, the beam of a flashlight shined in his and Emily's eyes.

"Emily Prentiss?"

"Yeah," she choked, struggling to stand up with Hotch.

"Who's with you?" As the figure drew closer, Hotch and Emily were able to make out for sure that he was a police officer.

"Agent Aaron Hotchner, FBI. I…don't have my credentials with me, but I work security clearances for Ambassador Prentiss."

"That's fine, Agent. Just making sure Emily's safe."

"Well, thanks a lot for being worried about me," Hotch wished he could say.

"You wanna know how we knew to look for you?" the cop asked in amusement, apparently not worried about the present pursuit of the criminal or the fact that Hotch and Emily had almost been killed. Not waiting for a response, he said, "This kid at a gas station forty miles east called with your vehicle description, said _a guy in a suit _took off without paying for a fill-up. And you know what, we almost drove right past your car. Pretty rainy out. Your lucky day. You don't get murdered, _and_ you get a free tank of gas."

—

As Hotch and Emily followed the police officer out of the woods, they heard a gunshot far off in the distance, in the direction George had run. Hotch had kept a protective arm around Emily's shoulders as they walked, and controlled their pace such that they followed far enough behind that they could talk privately, which they still hadn't done. All three of them stopped in their tracks.

The radio of the officer ahead of them crackled to life. "Suspect down," Hotch and Emily both heard. The latter shivered.

"They got him," the officer informed Hotch and Emily, turning around momentarily. They simply nodded in reply.

"I told you we'd be okay," Hotch murmured.

"Oh please," Emily scoffed playfully. "You were just being protective."

"Maybe," Hotch admitted, squeezing her shoulder.

"It was cute, though."

"Cute? We almost got killed. I don't think the word 'cute' fits anywhere in description of what happened tonight."

Emily chuckled. "What abut you standing up to that guy at the mall? That was cute."

"I'm going to remember your mocking me the next time I consider helping you out."

"God, I'm freezing," Emily said, her teeth chattering. Neither of them had been able to dry off as it was still pouring. Without a thought, Hotch shrugged off his jacket and laid it over Emily's shoulders. A wet jacket was better than no jacket, he figured.

She laughed as his hand found its place on her shoulder again. "What?" he asked.

"You can't say no to me, can you?"

"You know, I don't appreciate being mocked," Hotch said lightly.

"He's gone, GSW to the head," sounded a voice through the officer's radio.

Emily gulped. Though she thought she had already bounced back, she realized the gravity of the situation. A killer had held a knife to her throat, had chased them through the forest, had stalked them, had come this close to making them his next victims. She wondered how on earth it was that she could be laughing at a time like this. When she rehashed the events since they'd left the mall, she realized how many times Hotch had put his life on the line for her. "Thank you," she said.

"For the jacket? I thought you were busy making fun of me for not being able to say no to you."

"No. Not for the jacket. Well, for everything. So…yeah, the jacket too."

Hotch smirked and pulled Emily closer.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!**


	5. Finding Solace

**A/N: As you know this story is, of course, AH, so I am taking some liberties here…you'll see…**

**Genre: Spiritual**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

Hotch watched Emily carefully as they walked slowly side-by-side, down the small street in the heart of Washington. He stayed as close to her as he could without them actually touching. The want to interlace his fingers with hers was picking at the back of his mind, but he dutifully ignored it staying well inside 'friend territory'. The sun was shining, pleasantly warming his skin and casting a glow over Emily, making her raven hair dance and sparkle like diamonds. He just couldn't wrap his brain around just how looked beautiful she looked and the way it tugged at his heart.

Though despite the pleasant scene he felt a need to keep his eyes her, not to gaze at her beauty, but to try to figure out what was flickering so restlessly through her mind. The sun shone brightly but above her a cloud was lingering. It was obvious that something was bothering her. It showed in the way she carried herself and the way her eyes didn't twinkle like they always did.

He glanced at her again, his hands rolling into tight fists. It had been almost a week since they together had come closer to death than any man would ever consider comfortable. He himself still had trouble sleeping at night and he was trained for situations just like that. So he could only assume that Emily did as well. But she would not say, insisting that she was fine whenever he would ask her. He had thought, maybe foolishly he wondered now, that that day brought them closer; the kiss they had shared. But she had not mentioned their kiss since that night and he had refrained from bringing up the subject. But to be honest he was confused.

He would have understood her if she had said that she had just got caught up in the moment, that it had been a one-time thing. Even though that would have surprised him. If she had been embarrassed about it, or had just plain decided that she didn't have those deeper feelings for him, he would have expected her to tell him so. Emily was nothing if not straight forward; it was one of his favorite things about her. Then he would have expected her to be sweet and friendly and joke at her own expense to make him feel better. Another of the multitude of wonderful things about her; no one had a bigger heart than her. But she had been eerily quiet the last few days, seemingly always lost in thought. Well, he thought, it was time to walk out on that limb and find out what exactly was bugging her.

"Hey, Em," he said, giving her a smile as he met her eyes, "wanna sit down for a bit?" He pointed at a bench a few yards away, surrounded by leafy green trees.

"Sure." She allowed him to guide her over and sat down next to him, but still a part of her mind seemed to be a million miles away.

"Emily?" Hotch said, gently touching her elbow to catch her attention again. "Is there something you'd like to talk about? It really seems like something is bothering you," he said, deciding that the straight forward approach would be his best choice, "And before you say no and that everything's fine, I know that there is something wrong. What's wrong?"

Emily sighed, her eyes on her hands restlessly twitching in her lap. "It's what happened last week," she said, finally.

"I kinda figured as much," Hotch said, sliding his arm across her shoulders, smiling as he felt some of the tension leave her body, "Are you having nightmares?"

"Some," Emily said, nodding slowly and, to his relief, she leaned into him, "they're not that bad though, not anymore."

"Then what is it, sweetheart?" Hotch said, the endearment slipping past his lips without him noticing it.

"I just keep thinking about the people who weren't as lucky as us," Emily said, her voice wavering slightly, "about those innocent people that George killed."

Hotch felt his heart sink like a stone. Of course that was what had been bothering her. She hadn't been thinking about herself, about how close she had come to dying, but about the two couples that hadn't made it. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm tighter around her, the need to protect her more present than ever before.

"I've taken both psychology and criminology at school," she said, her voice a bit steadier, "I know that people like him are out there, a lot of people like him, I get that." She sighed. "But I just can't seem understand how someone can just end someone's life like that. Just like that! Without any remorse."

Hotch stroked a hand over her head. He realized that this was something she needed to get off her chest so he didn't interrupt with any soothing words; he just let his hand glide gently over her hair as she sobbed quietly. Still he felt like he needed to do more for her and he wanted to do something for George's victims as well. He looked to his left down the road they had come and spotted what he was looking for immediately; a church they'd walked by earlier, demanding attention among the other buildings with its grand architecture, though still a source of solace. It wouldn't be much, a candle and a prayer, but it would be something.

"Emily, sweetheart," he said, giving her shoulders a squeeze, she had stopped crying but her eyes were still red and puffy as she looked up at him, "Would you like to go in there?" He glanced at the church and she followed his gaze with hers. "We could light candles for George's victims, maybe say a prayer." To his surprise he could feel her body stiffen under his arms again, as her eyes lingered on the wooden doors to the church.

He knew her family was Catholic and he had understood from at least her mother, that they were practicing Catholics. But the Ambassador had never said anything about her daughter and, well, he usually didn't work nights and weekends so he didn't know whether Emily was as devout as her mother seemed to be. Though this was certainly something more than just a lapsed Catholic wondering whether she should or shouldn't, she had visibly flinched when he had suggested lighting candles and saying prayers. Again he felt like he was going out on a limb, about to ask her something he probably had no business knowing. But something was so obviously wrong and he just couldn't stand to see her so upset.

"What is it, Emily?" he said, gently.

"Uh…It's nothing," she said, trying to scoot away from him but her held her tight, "I'd just rather not go in there, is all."

"Please don't shut me out, Emily," Hotch said, the hurt in his voice surprising even him, "I am your friend. Please let me help."

"It's really nothing," Emily said one more time, though with a lot less conviction.

"Emily, you became stiff as a board when I mentioned going into that church so I really don't believe that it's nothing. But I won't push you, just please know that I am here for you if you need anything. I hate to see you this upset." He drew in a breath and looked away, allowing her some space, though not releasing his hold on her shoulders.

Emily sighed. He was trying to help her. He had been trying to help her all week and she had shut him out. She felt awful. He was being a good friend, her best friend, and she was being a bitch. Though she didn't know if she could bear telling him the whole truth yet, she wanted to give him some explanation. "It's a long story," she said and he turned back to look her in the eyes, "I honestly don't know if I can share it all with you right now."

"That's okay," Hotch said, pulling her closer again, "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

"I do want to, Hotch," Emily said, leaning into him, drawing strength from his warm body, "I need to. You are my closest friend and," she paused, a shadow of insecurity crossing her face, "I hope that we can be more than friends someday and I want to be honest with you."

Hotch smiled encouragingly as she drew a deep breath. "When I was fifteen," she said, "we were living in Rome, my mother was stationed there." Her eyes flickered across his face. "I did some things there that I shouldn't have. Nothing illegal or anything like that, just some things I'm not all too proud of."

Hotch nodded. He had an inkling as to what she meant but he kept it to himself, when she wanted him to know she would tell him.

"Well, I went to a priest when I'd gotten into trouble, hoping and believing that he would help me and guide me and tell me that God would forgive me." She sniffled softly, turning into Hotch's embrace. "Well, let's just say he didn't take very kindly to my problems and he didn't have anything to say to me other than that I wasn't welcome in his church anymore." She drew another deep breath. "I…uh…took care of my problems and I did go back to that church, once, but the whole experience scarred me and I have stayed away from it ever since." She grew silent, her hands wrung tightly together in her lap.

Hotch's heart ached. He could see in her eyes that this was something she had carried alone the last seven years. He didn't push, he assumed that there was more to the story but this was what she had been comfortable telling him and he was very grateful that she had such trust in him that she would allow him a glimpse of this secret room inside her mind. He twisted in his seat and enveloped her in a tight hug. She rested her cheek on his chest and he drew warm circles across her back. "You don't have to go in there if you're not ready," he whispered against her hair, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I want to do something for the men and women that George killed," Emily said.

"We can still do something," Hotch said, "We could do something out here. Would you like that?" A smile touched his lips as he felt her nod against his chest. "I think I saw a place up the street where we could get some candles, I could go get some and we could light them out here, in the sun."

"I'd like that," Emily said.

When Hotch came back five minutes later, Emily had left the bench. He found her thirty feet away by the foot of the tallest tree. He walked over. As he came up next to her he wrapped his arm around her waist, reveling in how natural it felt to do so. "Hey," he said, "I got these." He handed her the bag with four candles and a matchbox. "What do you want to do?"

"I thought we could put the candles here, on the ground by the tree," she said, "and just have a moment of silence for them."

"Alright," Hotch bent down, putting the candles on the ground, keeping a safe distance from the broad tree trunk, and watched as Emily then lit them one by one.

"Let's close our eyes," Emily said. He closed his and folded his hands together. As he stood there with his eyes closed, feeling the sun shine on his face, he sent a small prayer for each one of George's victims and finally one for Emily – he didn't think she would mind. After a minute he cracked one eye open and saw that Emily still had hers closed. He took the opportunity to watch her, feeling relief and joy as he took in her peaceful expression.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review. :)  
**


	6. Things Start Getting Steamy

**This chapter parodies medical dramas in general, but early Grey's Anatomy (seasons 1-2) specifically, with some of the names and character descriptions. Nothing too deep, but I liked poking fun at the un-realism of the show. Therefore, do NOT expect the parody portion this chapter to be realistic.**

**Genre: Parody**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

* * *

"Oh my God, I might be too full for a drink," Emily groaned and held onto her stomach when Hotch parked his car at a bar around nine o'clock. He'd gone home to change after work and had come back to pick her up for dinner, and they'd both eaten more than their fill.

"Come on, just one. I have to work in the morning. I won't keep us out late. It's on me…"

"It's always on you. You'll need to sweeten the deal a little." Emily gave Hotch a playful smirk and tugged at the hair on the back of his neck.

"I'll give you a back rub."

"Right now?" Emily asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Later."

"It'd better be a good one."

Hotch cracked a grin. "You seem to be feeling better," he said gently, turning in his seat and eying her with scrutiny. "Are you?"

Emily gave her eyes a miniscule roll at Hotch's mention of a few weeks ago. Every time she'd been in even the slightest bad mood since then, he'd allude to the day their near death a month ago, and their day outside not long thereafter, lighting candles for the murderer's previous victims when Emily found herself unable to enter a church to do so. But whenever she was in a good mood, he'd note that she was feeling better. Everything related back to that day.

"Not everything has to go back to that, you know," she said, finally addressing her annoyance with his persistence.

"Okay, sorry." He rolled back into his seat and stared ahead at the outer brick wall of the bar.

"Don't look so hurt. I'm fine. When I'm in a good mood, it's because I'm in a good mood. And when I'm in a bad mood, it's because you're an asshole," she said with a teasing smile. "I've moved past what happened," she fibbed, remembering the nightmare she'd had the weekend prior.

"All of it?" Hotch asked pointedly, his eyes piercing hers. Knowing exactly what he was talking about, she leaned in for a kiss, definitely not the only one they had shared over the past few weeks.

"Not all of it. Only the bad parts," Emily murmured once their mouths separated.

"What exactly are we doing?" Hotch asked before taking another taste of her lips.

Emily often thought the same thing and had been wondering if Hotch had, too. Apparently, he was just as curious as she was as to what to label their relationship. But she only had his guaranteed presence until September, and that was looming closer and closer. "Having a good time," she answered.

"Works for me."

Emily granted Hotch one more kiss and asked, "You going to buy me that drink now?"

—

"What's wrong?" Emily asked when Hotch suddenly pulled out of a kiss that was uncharacteristically steamy for a public place. They sat in a corner booth in the dimly lit bar.

He winced and clutched his stomach. "No idea."

"What is it? A cramp?" she asked.

"Yeah," he struggled to say.

"Okay, well, I have Midol with me but I don't think that'll help you…"

Hotch didn't appreciate the joking. Instead of acknowledging Emily's comment, he hunched over and groaned.

"Which side is it on?"

"Every side."

"Okay, so it's probably not your appendix. We didn't eat the same things at dinner. What did you have again?"

"A little bit of everything."

"Anything that might've given you food poisoning?"

"Probably." He exhaled deeply and leaned back into the booth.

"Jeez, you'd think you're going into labor. Big baby."

"Thanks," he said flatly.

"Think it'll run its course tonight, or do you want to go to the ER just in case?"

"How much would you make fun of me if I said I think I should go to the ER?"

A broad smile spread across Emily's face. "A ton. I was actually joking, because who goes to the ER for food poisoning? But I'd rather you suffer mentally than physically. Come on. Let's go."

—

"How long did we wait, like ten minutes, if that?" Emily marveled as she and Hotch were led by an orderly (a rather attractive one, Emily noticed) down a beautiful, gleaming hallway. "I've never been to this hospital. I'll be keeping them in mind." She'd hardly had time to help Hotch fill out his paperwork.

"Same here," he replied. He was a good patient, answering basic questions and letting a young, cute nurse take his vitals.

"We'll get you in a room right away," she said.

"Already?" Emily asked. "A room, seriously?"

"Your symptoms could be due to any number of things," the nurse said. "We'll want to run some tests just to be on the safe side."

"I think it's just food poisoning," Emily said.

"Possibly, but it could be anything."

—

"This is nuts. Since when does food poisoning require a hospital stay for overnight observation?" Emily asked Hotch once they were alone in his private hospital room, Hotch tucked neatly in bed, still in agony.

"It _could_ be _anything_," Hotch derided, fiddling with the tape holding down his IV.

"You should just puke."

"I hate throwing up."

"Again, big baby. Hey, what if you're dying? You might be. You never know," she said mockingly. "Did I hear the nurse say she wouldn't be surprised if you had to get a CT scan?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"These people are crazy. We should've just taken you home and let you puke."

"Well, I'm here now…"

"Cute butt, by the way."

"Thanks a lot. You don't have to stay, you know. I'll be fine."

"No way I'm missing out on this. Everyone here is so gorgeous. Oh dear, here comes the brigade. Maybe you _are_ dying," Emily whispered when four frightened looking doctors, most likely interns, were herded into the room by another more confident doctor.

Emily tried to glue her mouth shut while a fast-talking female Asian intern started rattling off Hotch's information. "Aaron Hotchner, age twenty-seven, admitted this evening with complaints of abdominal cramping and nausea. His blood work hasn't come back from the lab yet."

"Uh, we think it's just food poisoning." Emily couldn't help but cut in, but the more experienced doctor, at least a resident, Emily guessed, kept going as if she wasn't even there.

"Thank you, Dr. Ying. And what would you recommend if the blood work checks out? Dr. O'Reilly?"

"Umm, an X-ray, sir."

"Dr. Black?"

"A CT scan would give better definition."

"Right. Any swelling?"

"No, sir," said a female blonde who looked more like a lingerie model than a doctor.

"That's all," the leader said to his minions. They took off obediently and the doctor stepped forward. Emily couldn't help but keep a sly smile from playing on her lips.

"Hello, there, I'm Dr. Steemie. No comments on the last name, please. First name's Mick, that'll do just fine."

"Mick…Steemie?" Emily asked, her eyebrows slowly raising practically into her hairline. "As in…Mick Steemie?"

Dr. Steemie, a devilishly handsome man who appeared to be in his mid-forties and had the salt and pepper hair to match, grinned and gave Emily a look that made Hotch feel as if he, the patient, were completely invisible. "McSteamy, yes. I must say, I've never heard that one before," the doctor said, his voice oozing sarcasm. But he appeared far more amused than annoyed. Hotch got the feeling that this man, who was old enough to be Emily's father, had done a bit of cradle robbing in his time.

"I'm Emily," she said, half-standing to shake hands.

"You are, uh…" Dr. Steemie trailed off and flipped through Hotch's charts. "…Mr. Hotchner's…"

"Friend," Emily said hastily. "Just a friend."

Hotch almost let his mouth hang open in awe.

"Well, _just a friend_, it was nice to meet you. Mr. Hotchner, you're in good hands. One of our interns will get back to you with your results soon."

"Thanks for that," Hotch said, almost under his breath, when he and Emily were alone again.

"I'm _so_ sorry. I couldn't help myself. He looks like one of my professors."

"I thought you were joking about sleeping with your professors."

"I was. Relax, would you?"

"I'm trying to, but you're busy flirting up a storm with my doctor. You had your tongue down my throat an hour ago and now I'm chop liver?"

"You could be _dying_," Emily said in jest, "and _that's_ what you're worried about?"

"What if I said yes?"

Emily licked her lips and giggled. "We're just having a good time, remember?"

Hotch's heart dropped a little. "Yeah. I know." Emily was leaning in for an apologetic kiss, which he would have loved to accept, but he turned his cheek to her. "Sorry, rancid breath. You really don't want to."

"Don't say I didn't try. Hey, you know what, I'd better give my parents a call and let them know I'll be staying out. They probably haven't even noticed I'm not back, but just in case."

"You going to tell them you're with me?" Hotch asked, somewhat hopeful but trying not to appear to be.

"Absolutely not. I think they're on the fence about how much time we've been spending together lately. Better not push it."

"Good idea. Go call them."

"I'll probably go see if they have some sandwiches or something, too. I don't think they'll be bringing you any hospital food for me to mooch."

"Oh, _now_ you're hungry again. Now that I can't eat. I see how it is."

"Sorry. I won't be long."

Emily wandered the halls in search of a sign that pointed to the cafeteria, or at least the gift shop so she could buy a candy bar and a drink. In her exploring, she saw a giggling couple duck into a room and heard the door lock behind them. "Seriously?" she muttered. She found that she needed to go down two floors to get to the cafeteria and found an elevator first. The door opened to the sight of a doctor and a nurse clearly under the impression that they had more time between floors, as the male doctor had pressed the female nurse into a corner and had a hand up the back of her shirt while they practically sucked each other's faces off. Emily stared for only a second, amused, and decided to try to find the stairs instead. She passed by a similarly sensual scenario halfway down the first stairwell she found. At this point, it was becoming less funny and more disgusting. She wondered if all of this was very sanitary.

She finally found the cafeteria, discovered it was closed, then found the gift shop and bought a candy bar and a bottle of juice, and looked for a payphone. Not surprisingly, she got the answering machine and left a message that she was out with some girlfriends and might not be back for quite a while.

"This place is worse than a high school full of horny teenagers," Emily remarked when she got back to Hotch's room.

"That was only a few years ago for you, wasn't it?" Hotch pointed out. He eyed Emily's candy bar in mild disgust.

"I like to think that my four years since high school have been more like eight or ten."

"Oh. Okay, then."

"But seriously, there was a doctor and a nurse making out in an elevator, and then two doctors in the stairwell."

"I got hit on by my nurse."

"You? Aww," Emily said, laughing.

"You say that like you're surprised."

"Don't take it personally. You're pale and sweaty and your breath smells like rotten eggs and you're in a hospital gown."

"You'd still hit on me," he said cockily.

Emily scrunched her nose and shook her head. "Mmm…no. I don't think so."

"Kick me while I'm down, why don't you? By the way, they're coming to get me for a CT scan any minute now."

"You know, I thought that maybe they were joking. Do you think there might be something more serious going on?"

"I doubt it. Just overzealous doctors, I guess. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Do me a favor."

"Anything I can do from a hospital bed."

Emily grinned evilly. "Don't say that. You don't need to get up for those kinds of favors."

A pink crept into Hotch's white cheeks. "Cute. What's the favor?"

"Just puke, please. Get it all out of your system so we can go."

"We can go anytime."

"Then let's go!"

"I don't know. What if it is something serious? My insurance covers all of this. Couldn't hurt to let them take a look."

—

Emily sat impatiently in Hotch's room once he was wheeled away for his scan. Bored quickly after his departure, she decided she could at least eat her candy bar. She relished in how much she would be able to tease him for this later on. He gave a tiny wave when an intern wheeled him back in.

"They said they'll get back to me soon," Hotch reported.

"Soon? Don't technicians do all of that, then have the doctors actually look over it? I thought it was supposed to take forever."

"Actually, all those interns sat in on the scan. I think they're already looking at the results."

"This is the weirdest hospital ever. Can you please just throw up? Once you start, you can't stop, really. I spent the first month after my twenty-first birthday learning that lesson repeatedly."

"Only a month?"

"Hardy-har-har. You seriously don't want to puke? I can't _stand_ being nauseous."

"If the scan comes back clean, we can go."

"Promise?"

"I'm glad you care so much about my health. Really, it's heartwarming."

—

Emily couldn't get Hotch discharged quickly enough once he was finally diagnosed by his team of doctors with food poisoning. She couldn't get him into his apartment fast enough, either. He threw up the second he got out of the car.

"Disgusting," Emily muttered.

"You've been asking me to puke all night!"

"Didn't say I'd like it. Come on. Let's get you upstairs." Emily had been over to Hotch's a few times, but always resisted the urge to let things get more physical than they were. As much as she often wanted to move the party to his bedroom, she was relatively certain her mother would have her head if she found out about any sexual relations between the two of them. Emily had no reason to fear that such information would actually make its way to her mother, but if she ever asked, Emily didn't want to have to lie.

While Hotch finally attempted to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet, Emily wet a washcloth for him. She tried not to breathe too deeply, as the smell was almost enough to send her reeling. After his first flush, Hotch sat back against the tub and rested his arms on his knees. "Thanks," he breathed when Emily handed him the cloth.

"Sure."

"What time is it?" Hotch asked after wiping his mouth clean with the washcloth.

Emily poked her head out of the bathroom and read Hotch's alarm clock. "One."

"That early?"

Before Emily could answer, Hotch was diving for the toilet again. Emily waited patiently and handed him another cloth to cool his forehead.

"You okay?" Hotch asked during a break.

"Hmm?" Emily arched her eyebrows and looked down at him.

"I asked if you were okay."

"I'm fine. How're you doing?"

"Been better," Hotch said with a chuckle. "You don't have to stay. I've spent my fair share of nights in the bathroom. Granted, it's been a while, and for different reasons, but I'll live. I can give you cash for a cab, or you can take my car back…wait, that would probably not look right…"

Emily shrugged. "I don't have anywhere to be in the morning. Speaking of which, think you'll make it to work in the morning?"

"No choice. One more should do it."

"One more what?" Emily didn't need an answer though, as Hotch lunged at the toilet again. "I need some air." She walked into Hotch's bedroom, where she'd only been once or twice, and only briefly. The slightly chilled, but still sticky nighttime air brushed against her face when she slid the window open. His bed caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Neatly bade, and the sheets with hospital corners, she suspected, it called to her. She could hear Hotch brushing his teeth vigorously now and wondered what was going through his mind. What did he mean by telling her she didn't have to stay? She knew she often overanalyzed things, and that he had probably meant exactly what he had said. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there had been a hint of reverse psychology going on on his part. After all, he was in his late twenties. He was single, yes, but ambitious, intelligent, sensible. He was probably past the point in his life where he was okay with an undefined physical relationship with a woman who had his interest, and she was pretty sure she fell under that category. He walked into his bedroom to find her staring out the window. Clearly under the impression that he would have a roommate that night, he approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist.

**A/N: Please leave a review!**


	7. Interruptions

**A/N: Fair warning: Parts of this chapter borders on M, it's never a full M… but it gets a bit raunchy ;) Enjoy!**

**Genre: Drama**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

Emily felt a tiny spark flutter through her belly as Hotch's arms locked around her waist. How could she not? His long lean body pressed up against her back and, after five minutes of vigorous tooth brushing, he smelled of mint mixed with the woodsy spices of his aftershave and the scent tickled her nostrils in a very tempting manner.

Hotch's hands dropped a few inches and settled on the curve of either hip. He leaned in, licking his lips as he did so, and brushed her long, wildly curling, hair to the side. Emily's red top had thin spaghetti straps that left her slender shoulders bare and the expanse of creamy pale neck and shoulder exposed to his gaze made his pants feel very constricting.

Emily shivered as she felt Hotch's breath on her neck. The gasp that escaped her when kissed a spot just below her ear was inevitable. He knew that spot made her knees weak. She leaned into him, felt him tighten his grip on her hips and leave a little trail of kisses down her neck and along her shoulder. His hands snaked beneath her thin top, brushing against her soft skin.

"Mmmm, Emily," he moaned as his daring hands crept higher and higher. He huffed and frowned in disappointment when Emily's hands closed over his and pulled them down. The frown was replaced by a smirk and two dimples when she spun in his arms and put his hands back on her hips. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth hard against his. She battled him for dominance. He'd always considered himself an alpha male, he enjoyed taking charge, but when Emily's tongue slid along his bottom lip and her fingers tangled in his hair, he let go of his control willingly.

He moaned deeply as the little shockwaves Emily tongue playing gently with his elicited vibrated through his body. As they broke apart, both in desperate need of air, he felt the slightest twinge at his left temple. Emily's hands rubbing up and down his arms and her soft lips on his neck were almost enough to make the feeling go away but he just couldn't ignore how parched he felt. "Em," he said, grabbing her hands. She looked up, her face flushed and her lips swollen, and again his pants felt like an unfair prison. "I need a glass of water," he said, and giving her a dimpled smile he added; "it'd be a shame if I passed out on top of you. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"Water is fine, thanks," Emily said, returning his smile, "I'll just go wait for you in the living room." He nodded and spun around to leave for the kitchen but not before she noticed the flash of disappointment in his eyes as she said she'd wait in another room. She definitely got the feeling he wanted her to stay put and wait for him in the bedroom, most likely in bed, beneath the sheets – naked.

She walked over to his plushy couch and took a seat. There was really no doubt left in her mind that he was seeing tonight as a _'special'_ night. He'd said that she didn't have to stay, but she knew he hadn't meant that. And his behavior since didn't really indicate that he had wanted her to stay and watch TV. No, he definitely had other plans.

"A glass of ice water for the lovely lady." Hotch sat a tall glass on the table and sat down next to her leaving very little space between their bodies.

"How're you feeling?" Emily said, stroking his arm affectionately.

"Better now, thanks," Hotch smiled. Leaning closer he draped an arm across her bare shoulders, nestling her tight against his body, obviously intent on picking right back up where they had left off.

Emily wiggled from his grip, evading his lips as they sought her neck. "Why did you tell me I didn't have to stay?" she said, arching a slim eyebrow at him.

Hotch sighed and looked up. "Because you didn't have to stay if you didn't want to," he said, "you could have left and I wouldn't have minded one bit. Like you said earlier, we're just having a good time."

Emily pursed her lips together, not fully satisfied with his answer. "If whether I stayed or not wasn't a big deal to you, then why are you so insistently trying to make a big deal out of this night?"

"Oh, no. No," Hotch said, shaking his head profusely, "I don't…uhm… expect anything like _that._" He sat back a little, looking Emily deep in the eyes. "I would never do anything that you weren't completely okay with Emily," he said.

"I know," Emily said. She looked into his eye. When he was working, when he was in full agent mode as she liked to call it, he wore an emotionless mask over his face. Nothing but full professionalism would show in his dark features. But now, when he was alone with her, she could read every emotion in his eyes. He was nervous and happy and obviously horny – though that she didn't need to look into his eyes to notice – and he was also being completely truthful. He would never do anything that she didn't want. And that just made her want to jump him even more badly.

She licked her lips and let her eyes run over Hotch, from his thick dark hair, she wanted to run her fingers through, to his jeans covered muscular thighs. He looked like the tastiest treat ever and she needed a bite. His eyes shifted quickly from widened with nerves to crinkled with delight as she pounced. Her lips crashed against his and her eager tongue plunged into his mouth.

With Emily's hands on Hotch's shoulders and their mouths glued together in a searing kiss they toppled over, falling back on Hotch's couch. Emily screamed as she landed with a thud on top of Hotch. "Sorry," she laughed, propping herself up on her elbows and looking down at him.

"No worries," Hotch said, smiling widely, "it was actually quite enjoyable." He arched a suggestive eyebrow. Having Emily land on top of him and having her pert breast crushed against his chest was nothing if not enjoyable and again he felt himself twitch. Emily gave him an amused glare and slapped his chest as his eyes dropped to her ample cleavage. The way she was leaning forward against his chest made her breasts almost fall out of her rather low-cut top and it was impossible for him not to take in a couple of eyefuls.

"Hey!" Hotch chuckled, "If you push them in my face I am going to look. It's a compliment." He loved Emily's breasts; they were pure perfection in his eyes. They'd held his attention all night, and their waiter's and the creepy old doctor's too he'd noticed, with the way they filled out her tight tank top. At one point all he'd been able to think about was the way one of her perfect pink nipples would feel caught between his teeth. He growled, the image of Emily naked proving to be almost too much, and his eyes fell shut.

"Wanna do more than just look?" Emily said saucily, sitting back on her heels and running a finger all the way from Hotch's belt buckle up to his throat. His eyes flew open and his surprise and eagerness must have been written all over his face because Emily laughed happily. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," she purred, popping the top button on his shirt.

"Would you like to do the honors?" she said, pulling her shirt up a little to reveal pale soft skin and a flat stomach, "Or should I?" She tugged the top a little higher.

Hotch only nodded, slightly dazed, he'd had his fair share of dreams that started like this and now one of them was playing out right in front of him. She sat straddling his waist and he could feel heat radiating from her even through both his jeans and hers. Her sweet laughter flitted through the air and he was sure that she was laughing at him but he didn't care. He bit his lip and watched as she slowly lifted the tank over her head. She tossed the small piece of red fabric across the room and his eyes latched onto her breasts, covered only by a black strapless bra.

Emily leaned forward, putting a little more jiggle into it than maybe was necessary. She giggled as Hotch's fingers traveled up from her waist, along her ribcage, and cupped her breasts. She gasped as he gave them a gentle squeeze and tested their weight. "_Mmmm_," she hummed, his touch pure magic. The soft hum changed to a squeak when he pinched a nipple through the bra.

"You're wearing way too much," she cooed, her hands lingering at the second button of Hotch's blue button-down. Deliberately slowly she pushed button after button from their hole, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to his chest and stomach until she was hovering just above his belt buckle.

Grinning at the way Hotch's lips had rolled into his mouth and his hands squeezed into tight fists, Emily sat back up. "Sit up," she told him, tugging his shirt from the waistband of his jeans. He did as he was told, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch and wrapping one arm around Emily's waist to pull her onto his lap. He shrugged off the shirt, letting it fall back on the couch.

One eyebrow raised in a mischievous fashion Hotch let his eyes dart from Emily's eyes to her lips to her neck and reverently along the edge of her bra. She looked up at him, her own eyebrow raised in question. "What are you thinking," she said, shivering at his touch.

"I just realized how much I like this bra model…" Hotch said, mouth tilting in a slight smile.

Emily laughed. "Why?" she said.

"Easy access."

She squealed in surprise and delight as his nimble hands pushed her bra down, and large hands covered her naked breasts. She didn't even think to question his surprise attack as calloused fingers rolled her nipples to taut peaks. "_Ughhhhh_," she groaned as he caressed and played. Gently easing her down onto her back he elicited another happy squeak as his wet lips encased one tingling taut bud. "Oh my God! Hotch!"

Tangling her slim fingers in his hair, indecision filled her as she wanted his expert mouth and agile tongue assaulting her lips as well as her breasts. The desire to taste him overpowering her, she pulled him up and wrapped her arms around his strong torso. The way the muscles in his broad back played under her fingers and his hard chest crushed her breasts as his head dropped down to he place a kiss on her lips made her core throb.

Deepening the kiss immediately, turning it hot and wanton with a flick of her tongue, Emily let one hand snake between their bodies. Grinning against his lips when she found him pushing against the front of his jeans, she pressed the heel of her hand against his bulge.

"_Uhhhh_!" Hotch hissed as Emily's hand squeezed him. He let out another deep and rumbling moan as only one thought appeared in his lust dazed brain; He was definitely getting laid tonight. That thought made him swell further. Then just as he felt Emily's fingers playing at his fly a shrill sound filled the room.

"Leave it," Emily breathed, "let the machine get it."

"Ohhh," he sighed as the phone rang seemingly louder, "I'm sorry sweetheart, but I have to get it."

"Do you really have to?" Emily panted, "I have my hand a few inches from your groin and you're going to answer the phone?"

"It could be my supervisor. She freaks out if an agent doesn't answer. I'll be right back, sweetheart, I promise." He pushed himself off of the couch. His face flushed and a half-erection pressing obvious against his pants, he padded away down the hallway.

The sudden interruption worked as an icy cold shower washing over her and Emily sat up. Becoming aware of how little she was wearing and all of a sudden feeling naked and exposed she quickly pulled her bra back up. Getting off the couch she walked a few turns around the small room, looking at the books and few little knick knacks, to pass the time. Spotting a small picture frame on top of the desk she couldn't resist the urge of finding out of whom Hotch would have a photo. His family most likely, but all Hotch had told her was that he had a younger brother. She had no idea about the rest of his family and curiosity took her over.

But as she reached the desk something other than the picture frame, holding a picture of a blonde teenage boy she assumed was his brother, caught her attention. A thick stack of papers lay in the middle of the desk. Thinking it could be information about her family Emily's curiosity grew even stronger and she picked up the top paper. It took her only a few lines to realize that she was reading some of the instructions of Hotch's next assignment. Her heart sank into her stomach as she read the location.

"Sorry again," Hotch said as he walked back into the room, "I'm all yours now… Emily?" He looked, confused, around the room when he didn't see her right where he had left her only five minutes earlier. His breath hitched in his throat when he raised his eyes and saw her by his desk, her bra back on, and her eyes dark.

"Seattle?" Emily hissed, closing the small distance between her and Hotch in a few quick steps. "Seattle? When were you going to tell me this?"

"Oh," Hotch said, realization that the night had taken a turn for the far worse creeping over him like a cold, wet blanket. "I only got it a few days ago and I didn't want to spoil our date."

"But you still knew before tonight that you were leaving, right?" Emily said, poking him in the chest, "You knew that in a few months you're going to move across the country and still you tried to worm your way into my pants?"

"Worm my way into your pants!" Hotch exclaimed. "I thought you were the one who said that we were just having a good time! And it's not like I didn't have some assistance when taking your clothes off! Five minutes ago you had your hand on my dick!"

"That was before I knew you're leaving me in what? Three months? When were you planning on telling me that? After I'd sucked you off?"

"No!" Hotch said, shifting his weight between his left foot and his right, "I mean yes, no… I wasn't expecting you to… do that…I was going to tell you." He paused a few seconds, his brow falling into a frown and his eyes darkening. "Why were you going through my personal belongings anyway?" he said testily.

"I got bored," Emily huffed angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. "You just left me there on the couch… With my tits out! To take a call!"

"I was right, it was my supervisor… Do you know how much trouble I'd have been in if I hadn't taken it?"

Boring her eyes deeply into his, Emily exclaimed; "Do you have any idea much trouble you are in now, Hotchner?" Spinning around with one last huff, she grabbed her top of the floor and stormed out the door. He could hear her picking up her purse and a few seconds later the unmistakable thump of his front door slamming shut.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Review if you have the time, please!**


	8. The Enchanted Ticket Stubs

**Genre: Fantasy**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

* * *

On a particularly hot night, Emily awoke to realize that the air conditioning in her room was clearly not working. She was nearly drenched in sweat, even though in her sleep she had apparently kicked off her blanket. She made a face, then freed herself from her sticky sheets before wandering out into the hallway to check the thermostat. It was set to seventy, but the actual temperature was eighty-two.

"Great," she muttered, knowing she'd probably never get back to sleep in this heat. On her way back into her room, she spotted a movie ticket stub from a month ago, right before her and Hotch's falling out. They still hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other in passing since the night Emily had found out Hotch was leaving for Seattle in September. It was now late July, and Emily still hadn't mustered up the strength to go to him. He'd tried several times to find a reason to be alone with her so they could have a private conversation, but she always thwarted his efforts in hopes that she could remain mentally and emotionally distanced from him until the time came in a couple of months when they were physically separated as well.

Tears burned behind Emily's eyes when she thought about how stupid she'd been, thinking she'd be able to keep Hotch around, thinking they were destined for something more than friendship or even friendship with benefits. Thinking that someday he might tell her he loved her, and that as a result, she'd feel some sort of direction in her life.

Only a couple of tears had carved a path down her cheeks when she realized her nose was stuffing up already. She sniffled and picked up the movie ticket stub. _Jurassic Park_. She remembered nearly shrieking at a few moments, even grabbing onto Hotch once. She'd partly been acting, of course—enjoying the little smile she got out of Hotch when she required his attention. Rolling her eyes at the memory, Emily dropped the movie ticket stub into a small trash can behind her door.

—

Hotch gave up flipping channels and settled on reruns of MASH. Having had felt particularly sorry for himself that day, he'd stopped on his way home from work to pick up a six-pack and a bag of chips. He was almost done consuming both now, and starting to regret it. On nights like this, when he found himself missing Emily, it was usually because he'd seen her at her home, tried to get her alone, and she'd refused to let him. He felt that if they could just talk about things, they'd be just fine. The best case scenario right now was that Emily just liked to be angry for a long time, and that she'd come around eventually.

Even though he thought he might die if he moved right now, Hotch needed to set his alarm clock. Changing and going to bed couldn't hurt, either. In stepping clumsily out of his jeans, he dropped his wallet. Too full, having had gone far too long without a purging, it spilled open and scattered loose items—receipts, cash, coins—all over his bedroom floor. He sighed, plopped down onto the ground, and moved his trash can in front of him. He started a "keep" pile. He managed to throw away quite a bit of stuff, and the last thing in the pile ("Of course," he thought) was a ticket stub to _Jurassic Park_. The movie had had its moments, but Hotch remembered a lot more about the person who had been sitting next to him, grabbing his arm, letting out little squeaks when she was startled. Hotch couldn't justify holding onto the piece of paper, so he flicked it into the trash can and finished getting ready for bed.

—

Emily woke up the next morning surprisingly cool and comfortable for how hot it had been when she'd finally fallen asleep again. She groaned in ecstasy and stretched while she yawned. When she finally peeled open her eyes, she realized she was not in her bedroom. The walls were grey, not white. And then the rest of her senses kicked in. The blanket on top of her was heavier. Much heavier. She peered around the room, propping herself up on her elbows, and recognized Hotch's bedroom. She looked directly to either side of her, looking for Hotch. Had they slept together? How drunk had she been?

But she was the only one in his bed, and she didn't hear a single peep through the rest of the apartment. Something tickled her chin and she reached up to scratch it, only to feel stubble everywhere.

_Holy shit,_ she thought. She looked at her hands—_Hotch's hands_, with those long, sturdy fingers. She felt her chest—_his _broad, firm chest. She supposed one final test, before the mirror, would confirm that she was Hotch and not herself. She slowly snaked a hand below the covers and felt it. There it was. And half hard, too. Morning wood. She knew she _should_ have been losing her mind right now—she was _in_ Hotch's _body_—but she'd always kind of wondered what it would be like to have a penis. With the touch of a timid finger at the tip, it sent a fire dancing through what she had to remind herself was Hotch's body, simply under her control. She grabbed hold of the entire shaft through the cotton boxer shorts that cloaked it, pumped a little and felt it grow a little in her grip. "Just because you woke up in a man's body does not mean you should start the day by masturbating," Emily said aloud, but it was Hotch's deeper voice that she heard. And it was even deeper hearing it inside her head.

_What kind of weird dream is this?_ she asked herself before pinching Hotch's arm firmly with her free hand. No change of state. Everything seemed real, too. Except for the fact that her body was missing and she was instead residing in the body of a man who had a rather impressive erection. She had countless questions now. Number one was probably _not_ "What would it be like to jerk off?" but it was probably the most easily answered at this point in time. She reached inside Hotch's boxer shorts and pulled out his cock, causing his entire body to jerk in surprise. Emily wanted to see what she now stroked gently between two very scared fingers, but she feared it might mess with her a little too much. She kept things under the covers and tried to imagine giving Hotch a hand job. Not only did that make Hotch's penis grow even firmer, but it made for quite a natural action.

She instinctively reached up to play with a breast, pinch her nipple, like she sometimes did when she masturbated with female parts, only to remember upon the arrival of Hotch's hand to his chest that she had no breasts to play with. Hotch did have two nipples, and she was sure that they did their job properly as erogenous zones, but this was just getting far too foreign for her liking. Coupled with the fact that she felt a new sensation between Hotch's legs—most likely the sensation came right before coming—Emily knew she had to stop. This was no longer fun or funny. She let go of her new toy and rolled out of bed. Clearly, she needed a way out of this predicament. As soon as she stood, though, a rush of someone else's thoughts flooded her mind. Voices. No, Hotch's voice, but the voice she heard when she was outside his body, not the voice she heard when she'd spoken on his behalf just now.

_I wish I didn't have to leave. _

It took Emily a moment to figure out what to make of this thought. Was it Hotch's thought, or was it her imagining what one of Hotch's thoughts _should_ be?

_If she won't talk to me after a month, then maybe she's not mature enough after all. Maybe she's not the old soul you thought she was. Maybe she's not worth the trouble._

This confirmed to Emily that these were at least not thoughts that she was subconsciously forcing onto Hotch. No, it seemed as though they were his thoughts. And she wanted more of them, as unhappy as they might be.

_Maybe I should ask for a different assignment. Something closer. But then what if _she_ leaves the area? She still hasn't decided what she's doing once summer is over. She's supposed to be finding herself. What if she finds herself somewhere else after I make that sacrifice for her? After all, she is holding a month-long grudge about you me not telling her about something for a few days._

Suddenly realizing she was panting—or _he _was panting—_someone_ was panting—Emily looked around the room for her phone and called her own number. After the first ring, everything went black.

—

Hotch rolled over in a half sleep the next morning. When he did, the unfamiliar sensation of a weight on his chest, shifting off of it once he was on his side, struck him. Opening his eyes to the already sunlit bedroom, he looked down at his chest. That chest was _definitely_ not his chest. And now that he looked around the room, he realized it was not his _room_, either. Had he been roofied? he wondered. Long hair tickled his shoulders when he sat up. Dark brown hair, like Emily's, he realized when he brought the ends of the hair into his field of vision. Was this Emily's body? Were those Emily's hands that held her hair? They certainly weren't his. If he was living in Emily's body, for whatever reason, then certainly…

_No_, _Not right. Besides, _he thought, _you're_ _in a U.S. Ambassador's home._ _How's that for a cold shower? _But not even the thought of the ambassador probably sleeping somewhere down the hall could stop him. With Emily's small hands, he began to explore her entire body, starting with her pointed nose, her narrow face, lush lips, then down her slender neck to cup her perfect (or what he always saw as perfect) breasts through the fabric of a thin cotton tank top. With a few flicks, one of her nipples hardened to attention. He felt something unexpected between his—well, _Emily's_—legs. Her body was responding to her touch in a very natural way. He felt a pulsating, he supposed not unlike what he experienced when he was sexually aroused in his own body. The wetness in Emily's panties kept his attention, making him skip past navigating his way down her tight stomach. Without fanfare, he went straight to her clit. He always wondered how, with the right technique behind it, he was usually able to give a woman a mind-numbing orgasm. He almost always resorted to the use of this magical little button, but he had no idea it was _this_ pleasant of a sensation.

Out of nowhere, he was barraged with visions of him and Emily together, from Emily's point of view, with him over her, entering her slowly, whispering her name right at her lips as he did. Kissing her right afterward. He wasn't sure if he was feeling what Emily felt or what he was supposed to be feeling in this fantasy, but whatever he was feeling, it was nice, and it sped along Emily's finger, which flitted back and forth across the very tip of her clit. Just when he was thinking he should probably stop and investigate this mystery a little further, Hotch heard movement in the hallway. He hoped whoever it was—be it Emily's mother or father—would not feel the need to pop in and wish Emily a good morning.

When he heard a soft knock at the door, Emily's heart thrashed violently inside her chest. Hotch didn't answer, not knowing whose voice would come out from Emily's lips. Just in case, he straightened out Emily's body and tucked her hands under the pillows, pretending to sleep.

Ambassador Prentiss gingerly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open a crack. "Em?"

Hotch tried to regulate his breathing, or whosever breathing.

"Em, I know you're awake. Did you want to talk about last night?"

"Last night?" Hotch asked reflexively, glad that at least his utterance came out in Emily's voice. Now that his guise of sleeping was useless, he opened Emily's eyes and sat up in bed.

"Remember? Agent Hotchner asked if he could speak to you before he left, and you let out some, uh, choice phrases, before getting in your car and driving off without telling me where you were going?"

Hotch didn't remember this happening at all. He had to be dreaming. He pinched Emily's arm subtly, not knowing why he hadn't thought to sooner. But nothing. The ambassador remained staring at him.

"Oh, that. Sorry," Hotch said, still not used to the way Emily's voice sounded in his mind.

"You can't take off like that, Emily. I had no idea where you went." Elizabeth let herself into Emily's room, shut the door behind her, and sat at the foot of the bed. "Is something going on that I should know about?"

"No," Hotch thought he said, but he realized Emily's voice was now run completely by something out of his control. He was no longer moving her lips. Her words came out without any help, as if part of her spirit was in her body and was doing the talking.

"Em…"

Hotch witnessed this conversation from a very strange place—from within the body of one of the speakers. Emily sighed.

"Is it a boy?"

Emily brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them, then pouted pitifully at her toes.

"Oh, Em." Elizabeth moved up to sit next to Emily at the side of her bed, then took her hand. "I know we're not very close, but I'm still your mom, and I always will be. You can tell me anything. Absolutely anything. I just want to know what's bothering you."

Emily's head lolled back against the headboard. "You promise you won't be mad?"

The ambassador's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I…can't promise I won't be _mad_, but I _can_ promise I'll try my best to understand and help you. How's that?"

Emily nodded somberly and combed her hair out of her face with her fingers. "It's Hotch."

"Hotch? As in Agent Hotchner?"

Emily nodded. "Yeah, sorry. It's an inside joke or something. Anyway, before I go any further, you do have to promise me that you won't fire him or give him bad references in the future. This has nothing to do with his job."

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered shut. "Did he get you pregnant?"

"No."

"Then I promise," Emily's mother answered with the tiniest of grins. "Tell me what happened."

Emily shrugged helplessly and tucked her lips in. "You know we've been hanging out a lot this summer."

"More than I thought prudent. Yes. But you seemed happy, and I haven't seen that in a while, so I let it go on. Was that a mistake?"

"No, this isn't your fault at all. I should've known better. He told me when we met that he only had this post for the summer, and that in September he'd have a new assignment, but he didn't know where yet. Well, I finally found out where. Seattle."

"Ah. He told you, then. I was wondering when you'd find out."

"_You knew?_" Emily cried.

"Em, I had to let him tell you on his own terms, in his own way. Not to mention, that sort of information is classified unless an agent wishes to share it. I wasn't the one to tell you. But I take it he did?"

"No, he didn't tell me. I found the papers at his apartment."

"And then he came clean?" Elizabeth ventured.

Emily laughed darkly. "Yeah, he came clean." She looked angry enough to clue her mother in.

"Emily, did he…lie to you to get something he wanted? You know?"

"You mean did he lie his way into my pants? No. We haven't slept together." Before Emily's mother could sigh in relief, she added, "We came pretty darn close, though. And don't give me that look. You said you wanted to know what's bothering me."

"Sorry, keep going."

"That was a month ago. I haven't really talked to him since except for polite small talk when other people are around, and those choice phrases you were talking about when I think we're alone. I just…_really_ thought we had something going on. I've never clicked with anyone like I did with him. I've dated my fair share of jerks and he didn't seem like one of them. Not that we were ever officially dating."

"Don't you think he might be trying to get you alone to apologize?"

"If he were staying, it would be different. I wish he weren't leaving. Then maybe things could work out, even completely platonically. He's great to just hang out with. But if he's gonna be gone in a couple months anyway, then there's no point in getting back on track with him. I'm just going to be a mess again when he does go."

"And you haven't been a mess the past month?" Emily's mother asked in a challenging tone.

Emily huffed.

"Sweetheart, I think you could be letting a very small thing get in the way of a great friendship. I certainly don't condone my agents dating my daughter, but I also hate to see you hurting. I know you didn't ask for my advice, but I'm going to give it anyway, because I'm a mom and that's my job. You should talk to him." Elizabeth patted Emily's hand, and that was that. Once she was gone from the room, Emily's subconscious—or whatever that had been—let go of the reigns. Hotch had control over Emily's body once more. Before things could get weirder, he got out of bed and looked for Emily's phone.

—

"We need to talk," Emily said when Hotch opened up his apartment door in the middle of the night in his typical boxers and t-shirt.

"Uh, yeah, oddly, I think you're right," Hotch said, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"First off, I just had the single weirdest dream of my life."

"Me too," Hotch said warily, sitting down on the couch with Emily, who also still donned pajamas, and he scratched vigorously at his scalp.

"Did it involve being in someone else's body?" Emily asked, as if no dream Hotch had had could trump her own.

"Actually, yes."

Emily's eyes narrowed. "Seriously? Whose body?"

Hotch licked his lips and coughed to clear his throat. "Umm, yours, actually."

"No shit…"

"I take it you dreamt you were in my body?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you like it?" Hotch cracked.

"Not the point," Emily said crossly. "Mine ended when I tried to call you…well, when I tried to call my own number, to talk to you, assuming you were inside my body. Anyway, it was just…weird."

"Mine ended on the same note," Hotch murmured. "Do you know what triggered yours?"

"What triggered my dream? No idea. Maybe some enchanted object, but who knows. Let's just…ignore _how_ it happened and talk about the fact that obviously, we both knew from these dreams that we needed to stop screwing around and talk to each other."

"I've _been_ trying to talk to you. But anyway, I suppose you could say something to that effect. Do you want some coffee?"

"No, I want to talk."

"All right. Fine. Go ahead."

Emily thought it a shame that she couldn't see these matching dreams as more romantic than she did. She did truly think that they were signaling to both of them that they needed to sort things out, but she didn't believe she was supposed to sort them out the way she truly wanted to. "You're leaving. In less than two months."

"I know."

"And I have no idea where I'm going at the end of the summer."

"I know."

"I miss you," she said. That part wasn't planned.

Hotch's gaze transferred from the floor to Emily's pleading eyes. "I miss you, too."

Feeling terribly selfish, Emily scooted closer to Hotch and took his face in her hands. She indulged in one long, sweet kiss, her tongue gliding between his lips until he played along. He found her hairline and combed through her hair starting at that point, cupping the back of her head when he reached it. He pulled her in not so politely by the neck. Emily felt herself ready for more and knew that that was her sign to back off. She gave their kiss a few more desperate seconds and pulled away.

"I can't hold the you-not-telling-me-thing over your head anymore, but I also can't pretend that it would be a good idea to get involved."

Hotch figured Emily's kiss was payback for his behavior a month ago, assumed she'd done it just to tease him. He couldn't quite blame her. "Emily, we can make this work if we try. People have long distance relationships all the time. Eventually, I'll get a new post, and maybe I'll have enough seniority by then to make a request for somewhere specific." Hotch reclaimed Emily's hair, tucking it repeatedly behind her ear. He reached for her other hand, surprised that she let him take it.

"Hotch, I want to be friends again. And not the kind of friends that fool around, like we were. Just…normal friends. When you leave—and I'm not blaming you for leaving, because it's part of your job, and I get that—remember who my mother is—but when you leave, I'll already hate it enough just losing a friend. If we were anything more, I just…I just think that would be a bad idea. If we know you're going to be leaving—"

"Then we could solidify this now, while I'm still here—"

"No."

"Em—"

"Hotch, I can't, I'm sorry."

"Look, I know I was a dick—"

"Hotch, don't beg. I didn't come here to make you beg. I came here to get you back, as much as I can safely have you, anyway."

"What was—never mind." Hotch got up and paced the length of the modest living room, his forehead cradled in his palm.

"What was what?"

"What was with the kiss, then? If you came over here on a mission to give me the let's-be-friends talk, then why did you come at me?"

"Moment of weakness," Emily uttered shamefully. "Sorry."

Hotch took a few more strides before stopping. "I would love to be friends, Emily. But you have to make up your mind. Friends, relationship, or nothing. You can't keep bouncing in between whenever you feel like it."

"I said I was sorry." Emily licked her lips and stood as well, closing the distance between her and Hotch in a couple of steps. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest. "I'm not trying to mess with you."

"It's okay," Hotch sighed, encircling Emily in return. "Just as long as you're sure now."

"I'm sure. Hey," she said, eager to change the subject, "want to tell each other about our dreams?"

**A/N: Pretty please, leave a review!**


	9. Murder!

**Genre: Crime**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" Hotch said, taking another envelope from Emily's hand and pressing a stamp onto it. A few months ago he would have seen it fit to tease her mercilessly about this ridiculous idea. But after their (semi-) mutual decision to stay just friends, even though there was an obvious sexual attraction between them, the timing never felt completely right for joking and teasing anymore. They still hung out almost every single day, and they had a good even great time together but he couldn't deny the elephant in the room – he still wanted her – and it made an awkwardness creep into their time together.

"For the umpteenth time – yes!" Emily exclaimed, smacking Hotch's chest. She ignored the little butterfly flapping through her stomach at the brief body contact. Very little touching between them had happened over the last few weeks, only the odd hug here and there. "Why do you keep asking?"

"Because I didn't think this was something you'd be into," Hotch said, "Besides isn't it a little… corny?"

"Of course it's corny," Emily laughed, "that's what makes it so much fun. I'm doing this for you, you know. I want you to have one last fun day before you leave for Seattle and this way you get to meet a few of my friends and I get to meet yours."

"I know," Hotch said, "and it's really nice of you to want to do something, you really didn't have to. I just thought you didn't like big parties." He couldn't tell her how strange it felt that she was organizing a party on one of his last days in DC. He'd much rather stick his head in the sand and pretend like he wouldn't be leaving her in just a couple of weeks. But she had asked if he wanted to do one last really memorable thing the day before he left and he couldn't say no to her. He'd never been able to do it.

"Oh, stop being such a drag, Hotch," Emily sighed as she slid the last invitation into its envelope and handed it to Hotch, "it's not a big party, it's a couple of my closest friends from Yale and your friend from the Academy. Simon, the guy organizing it, is a really good friend of mine and he's a struggling actor and doing parties like this is his way of getting by."

"But a murder mystery party?"

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. We'll get to dress up in fun forties outfits and drink dry martinis and you'll get to meet some of my other friends. I promise, it'll be awesome."

* * *

Hotch raised a reluctant hand and pressed the doorbell at the Prentiss mansion. Waiting for the hostess for the evening to arrive he awkwardly ran a hand across his hair. He felt silly, he'd never worn a tuxedo before, nor had his hair slicked back. He felt like he had a hundred pairs of eyes on him.

A few minutes later he could hear the faint sound of clicking heels behind the door and another few seconds later it was pushed open. The first thing he saw was her wide smile, blood red lips framing a set of impossibly white teeth, and her eyes twinkling at him under mile-long, jet-black, lashes. His jaw dropped and a familiar surge heated his insides. He couldn't stop looking at her. Her deep red dress was the second thing that grabbed him, the way it hugged her torso, showing a healthy amount of milky pale cleavage and the way it flowed around her lean legs.

"You look good, Hotch," Emily said, breaking the heavy silence.

"Oh," Hotch gasped, struggling to tear his eyes from her, "Thanks. You look beautiful, Emily." His eyes swept across her again, from her dark, gently curled, hair cascading over her shoulders along her soft curves to the tips of her toes. It felt… unreal that this would be their last night together. He wasn't sure if he really would be able to just let her go that easily.

"Come on," Emily said, taking Hotch's hand and tugging him along behind her, "you have to see the dining room, it looks amazing! And you'll get a chance to meet Simon before we start, maybe that'll get you to loosen up a bit," Emily said, mistaking Hotch's tensed posture as nerves about the party.

"Simon!" Emily called and a short blond man appeared at the back of the room. He was dressed in a trench coat, but with a brown wool suit underneath, not a tuxedo. Emily, who'd helped Hotch with his outfit, had convinced him to get the tuxedo. He looked down at his shiny shoes and sighed imperceptibly, he still felt silly.

"Agent Hotchner," Simon said, reaching out and shaking Hotch's hand, "Emily's told me about you."

"Please, it's Aaron," Hotch said, "or Hotch. Emily's told me about you as well. That you're an actor. That must be interesting."

"It can be," Simon said, giving Hotch a friendly smile, "right now though, this is what's keeping me busy. I hope you'll have a fun night, Aaron. Now I have to go help the others set up the last few things, I'll see you both a little while." He gave Emily a quick kiss on the cheek, shook Hotch's hand again, and disappeared into a back room.

Hotch felt relieved when he left. Not because he didn't like him, he thought he seemed like a nice enough guy, but because he'd get Emily to himself. At least until the other guests arrived. He carefully watched Emily as she crossed the room, pushing a chair to the side to make more free space. She looked just as good from the back, the dress hugging her rounded backside and her high heels enhancing the muscles in her strong legs. He felt another uncomfortable twinge, a little pinch in the pit of his stomach that somehow told him that he just couldn't leave their relationship as it were.

He watched Emily lean against the sill of one of the giant windows and look outside. "I can see Christine and Tracy, they'll be here any minute," she said, starting to walk towards the foyer. "When did you say Tom would get here?"

Hotch looked down at his watch. "Oh… Um. Any minute now, I'd suppose. His shift ends at seven, and it's nearly eight now so he should get here soon." Hotch said. Tom was his closest friend from the Academy and really the only one Hotch could see himself spending an entire night with except for Emily.

The doorbell rang and Hotch followed Emily to the grand entrance where he watched her open the door and let in two happily smiling women dressed just as Emily in figure hugging dresses and high heels. Standing a few feet away he watched them exchange hugs and kisses. His heart beat a little faster as he waited for them to notice him. His mind had time to wonder for a minute what she'd introduce him as, before rationality came back and told him that they were just friends, and that's what he'd be introduced as.

"Christine… Tracy," Emily said, leading them over to Hotch, "This is Aaron or Hotch as he was nice enough to let me rename him." She smiled at the memory, though all of a sudden it felt really distant. "Uhm, Hotch," she said, gathering her thoughts, "these are my best friends from Yale; Christine and Tracy."

He shook their hands, offering up the warmest smile he had in his arsenal. He really wanted Emily's friends to like him, he didn't know why since he'd be leaving the next day and he didn't even know if their friendship would continue after that. But still he felt like he needed their approval. He felt himself beginning to get lost in these musings when the doorbell, ringing a second time, saved him from himself. "That must be Tom," he said to Emily, "I can get it."

He walked over to the large oak door, pushing it open. "Hey, Tom," he said, opening the door wider, "come on in." Leading his friend, who'd fortunately also chosen to wear a tux, into the room and introducing him to Emily and her friends he noticed that the other man's eyes dropped for just a second when he met Emily. Possessiveness bubbled inside him, but he trampled it down.

As they entered the living room, Emily talking vividly with her two friends and Hotch exchanging a few words with Tom about Tom's latest case, they were greeted by tall man in a uniform. "Good evening," he said, "and welcome to my home. I am Colonel Winters and I hope that you will all enjoy this quiet, peaceful, soirée together. We are all friends here and I hope for a glorious night." He walked over to the two other new people in the room, one man and one woman, both dressed as waiters. "This is Ellen and John. They will attend to your every need so that your evening here at Winters Mansion will be as pleasant as possible."

With that the waitress, Ellen, walked over to each guest handing them each a Martini and a small set of cards. Hotch took a small sip and glanced at the first card. "Welcome to Murder Mansion," it said, "the rules of the game are as follows. On these cards you will receive information about your character, as well as clues as to who the murderer is. Every half hour, when the bell chimes, you will read a new card and disclose the information on it to your fellow players. You may also receive information that might be best if you keep to yourself." And at the very bottom of Hotch's card it said; "Your character is Sterling Macallen, you are a wealthy oil tycoon and one of Colonel Winter's closest friends."

Hotch arched an eyebrow at the card and his name for the night. It didn't seem too hard though, all he had to do was read off a card every now and then and the rest of the night he could spend with Emily.

"Please," Colonel Winters said, "Mingle! Have fun!"

Hotch walked over to Emily. He would have felt bad leaving Tom, but he had already made his way over to Christine and the two were in deep conversation. "Hello," he said, when he reached her, "Sterling Macallen," he said, taking Emily's hand in his.

"Hello, Sterling," Emily said, barely disguising the snigger, "I'm Betty LaFleur." She allowed him to bring her hand to his lips and press a soft kiss against her knuckles. "So, how do you know the Colonel?" she said.

"He's my closest friend," Hotch answered.

"Oh, well then we must have met before," Emily chuckled, "you see, the Colonel is my sweetheart."

Hotch didn't really know what else to say as his character once he had exhausted the information given to him by the card. So they stood silently next to each other sipping their drinks. And truthfully he didn't know what to say to her as himself either. Emily had been warm and sweet and funny all night, she was always those things, but there was a distance in her eyes that he'd been seeing there more and more over the last weeks and it worried him.

Pulling air into his lungs he was just about to ask a question he'd been wondering about for some time when the Colonel's booming voice filled the room again. "Friends!" he said, "I will take it upon myself to make sure that dinner is progressing as planned. Please, enjoy yourself while I am gone." He gave the room a wide smile and left.

As Hotch was about to return to his conversation, if you could call standing silent next to each other for almost ten minutes a conversation, when the waiter showed up in front of him. "Cocktail? Hors d'oeuvre?" He held out a tray in front of Hotch.

Accepting another drink with a smile, he almost dropped the glass as a shrill shriek shook the room. All conversation died. Everyone looked up, gasping, as Ellen the waitress ran into the room. "Call the police!" she yelled. "He's dead! The Colonel is dead! He's been murdered!"

The bell telling them that it was time to read their next card sounded. Hotch fished the stack from his pocket and read the words printed on the ivory paper; "You may let the room know that you and the Colonel were entering into business together, importing exotic fruits. It may however be best if you keep to yourself that you and Miss LaFleur, the Colonel's lady friend, have been having an affair for almost six months." He swallowed awkwardly, looking up at Emily. She had her back turned to him, her eyes still gliding across her card. Either she hadn't received the same information or she didn't even want to pretend that they were lovers.

Starting to walk towards her he was stopped once more as the door flew open and Simon, or whatever he was called when he was his character who apparently was a detective as he had a shiny badge, stepped inside. "Everyone, stop!" he shouted. "A man has been murdered here tonight and I have reason to believe that the murderer is in this very room."

* * *

Emily looked around the room. Hotch was talking to Tom, she didn't know if they were talking as friends or as their characters – Sterling Macallen and Lord Pickleton two business rivals trying to enter into the same market and both backed by the Colonel. On the other side of the room Simon, definitely in his character of Detective Plymouth, was grilling Christine and Tracy or Annette and Alexis the daughters to one of the Colonel's closest friends who'd died mysteriously a few months earlier leaving a big chunk of his fortune to the Colonel instead of his daughters.

Emily shook her head and sipped her drink. The information she had received over the last few hours was almost starting to jumble together into one big mess in her brain. But she was admittedly competitive and wanted to be the one to figure out who the murderer was. So far her top suspects were Hotch, well Sterling Macallen, and herself.

She glanced at Hotch again. She couldn't shake how incredibly handsome he looked. She knew he thought he looked silly, but the dark tuxedo made him look even taller than he was and she thought the way his hair was gelled back and parted at the side was cute. They hadn't spent much of the dinner together. They'd been seated at different ends of the table and, well frankly, she felt relieved. It was clear to her that Hotch wanted to talk to her about something, she didn't know exactly what, but she had her suspicions and she didn't know what she'd tell him. What she did know was that still, after weeks of being only friends, her heart still jumped every time he looked at her. That coated every interaction she had with him with tension. She smiled and she laughed but it never filled her whole body like it used to before she found out he would leave her. So she just couldn't go down that road, doing that would only lead to both their hearts breaking.

Her deep thoughts keeping her occupied, Emily didn't notice Hotch approach her until he was standing right beside her. She flinched when he said her name, her real name.

"Emily? Sorry," he said, "I thought you saw me."

"Lost in thought," Emily said, giving a small smile. "Trying to figure out who the killer might be," she fibbed, "but it's hard, we've had so much information thrown at us. How're you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," Hotch said, "I _am _a trained FBI agent, after all."

"Right," Emily smiled.

"Uhm, so," Hotch began, his voice quivering ever so slightly, "I've been meaning to ask you if you've decided your plans for fall yet?"

"No, not yet," Emily said, lying through her teeth. She'd decided a couple of weeks earlier that she wanted to look into the FBI. Hotch was her inspiration, the way he'd dealt with some of the situations they'd found themselves in took her breath away. But she didn't want to give him any false hope. Just because she wanted his career didn't mean she saw a future for them. "I'm still trying to figure out who I am," she said, after a few moments silence, "Who knows? Maybe I'll go to Europe."

"Oh." Hotch's disappointment was shining in his eyes.

"Uhm, yeah… So… Uh, I have to talk to Christine about something," Emily said, beginning to walk away, "We'll talk more later, okay?" As she turned her back to Hotch her eyes burned. She was just about to excuse herself and go to the restroom when the bell rang. Looking at the clock she realized that it was time for the final card, the one that would reveal to one participant that they were the killer and give the rest of the room their final information. After that all that was left was the truth coming out.

She opened her purse and pulled out the last card. "Announce to the room that you have been having an affair with Sterling Macallen for six months," it read, "and that's not all, you're also pregnant, but you don't know who the father is."

Detective Plymouth, Simon, came up behind her. "Miss LaFleur," he said, "I do believe you are the last one of this little merry group with some information left to disclose. Something that concerns Mr Macallen if I am not mistaken."

Emily took a step forward, trying to make every move as dramatic as she could. "I am with child," she said and looked at Hotch, "it could be the Colonel's, but it might also be Sterling's." She paused, letting the others digest the information, as the rules said that no one was allowed to guess who the killer was until every guest had all the pieces of the puzzle.

She stepped over to Hotch with determined strides. Remembering something Tom, Lord Pickleton, had said earlier about working with the Colonel, she pointed her finger at Hotch. "Murderer!" she exclaimed, "you killed the Colonel because you thought he was sabotaging your emerging business deal AND because you wanted to eliminate all competition for the market and for me!" When Hotch didn't answer she knew she was right.

"My deduction exactly!" Detective Plymouth said, "Very well done Miss LaFleur!" He smiled and walked over to Emily. "And very well done, Emily, you are the winner of tonight's game. I don't know if anyone has ever cracked it that quickly after receiving all the information. Let's have a big hand for Emily, everybody!"

Everyone clapped with Emily joining in as the 'dead' Colonel came back into the room together with Ellen the waitress and John waiter. With Simon leading them they took their bows and the game was over.

* * *

Half an hour later everyone had left but Hotch. Again Emily felt like he wanted to tell her something. She didn't believe all he wanted to ask her were her plans for fall. She felt torn into several little pieces. Tonight was possibly the last time she would ever see him again, and all she wanted was for him to leave without talking to her.

She sighed, turning to Hotch to tell him goodnight, when the door flew open and her mother stormed into the room.

"Emily!" she said, and Emily saw the tears rolling down her cheeks, "I need to talk to you. It's Grandfather."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! This was seriously one of the most fun things to write and I want to know what you thought so I'd LOVE some feedback… purdy please…**


	10. Hot and Cold

**A/N: THIS CHAPTER IS M-RATED. Not changing the entire story rating just for this chapter, but please beware.  
**

**Genre: Hurt/Comfort**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

* * *

Hotch almost made the mistake of tossing his keys onto his kitchen table when he got back to his apartment around midnight. He no longer had a kitchen table. He had almost nothing left in his apartment, really. Only the necessities. The movers had taken everything else. His remaining furniture consisted of a mattress that was so old he'd decided he'd have the movers leave it there so he had something to sleep on, and that he'd toss it before leaving. His stomach grumbled, and he realized he'd been drinking the entire night without much food in his stomach. He was actually surprised he'd felt well enough to drive home. The gurgling prompted him to call and order a pizza.

Emily had mentioned her grandfather to Hotch a few times in passing. All Hotch knew was that Emily's grandfather had lived in the wilderness in the French Alps, all by himself, and had for almost a decade since retiring. Emily had spent time up in the mountains with him when she was younger, but hadn't seen him since before college. She'd seemed to take the news in stride, and although Hotch knew her to be calm and collected when she needed to be, he wasn't sure why she was putting up such a front. When she had spoken of her grandfather, it had always been with extreme fondness. She had every reason to break down at a time like this.

Hotch had stuck around a little while after the news, standing uncomfortably in the hallway as Emily's father held onto her, much more for his own sake than for hers, as it was his father who had passed, and Emily seemed to be holding up all right. Her mother had holed up in her office, presumably already getting a start on funeral arrangements and notifying other relatives.

It had seemed as though Emily had been oblivious to Hotch's standing there like a fool with his hands stuffed in his pockets. On one hand, he'd desperately wanted to high-tail it out of the mansion like their friends had done. On the other hand, he was leaving the next afternoon, and tonight's plans had been his last with Emily. Not only could he not stand the idea of not seeing her again, but he couldn't imagine leaving her like this, either.

Luckily for Hotch, Emily's father had finally released her, muttering something about making himself some tea. Emily had the opportunity to pay Hotch some attention.

"Are you okay?" he'd asked as he'd pulled her into her arms.

"I will be," Emily had said shakily. "I haven't seen him in so long. It hasn't really sunken in yet."

"Yeah." Hotch had finally heard a sniffle issue at his chest as Emily's tears demanded freedom. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"No. But thanks. I should um…probably be with my dad." Emily had backed away and dabbed at her meticulously made-up eyes. "Thanks for staying."

"Of course. I'm sure you'll be busy tomorrow, so I guess this is…" He couldn't say the word, so he ran his hands gently up and down her arms.

"Yeah." Emily had stepped back in for another hug. "Keep in touch, okay?"

"I will. I'll give you a call when I get there."

Emily had nodded and backed away again, this time for good. "Good. Have a safe flight."

Hotch had nodded back and let himself outside. Just before Emily had shut the giant door behind him, he'd turned around. "If there's anything I can do while I'm still in town, let me know. I'm still in my apartment tonight. My phone's still on." Emily's dark eyes had glistened at this, making Hotch unsure whether her tears had been for him or for her grandfather.

Now he stood in his empty apartment that he'd spent most of the day cleaning. He literally had almost nothing left. He wasn't tired, but the only place to sit was on the bed or on the floor. He tried the bed, but felt ridiculous sitting on a mattress on the floor in a tuxedo. He decided he probably had enough time to sneak in a shower before his pizza arrived. His timing was just right—as soon as he was dressed again in shorts and a t-shirt and his rental tux was hung up, a knock sounded at his door. In a frenzy he searched for his wallet and dug out a ten.

Boy, was this a pretty pizza delivery boy.

"Emily."

Emily stood in his doorway, still in costume. "Hey." Her cheeks had tear tracks, but her makeup had remained intact and she was no longer crying.

"Come on in. What's going on?" Hotch asked, stuffing his money in his shorts pocket once Emily was inside.

She shrugged, her still perfect curls bouncing a little. "I just…needed to get out of there. My dad's tea turned out to be a bottle of brandy and my mom won't let me help with any of the arrangements. It felt weird being at home if I wasn't doing anything. God, this place is empty," she marveled once she thought she'd made enough noise about why she was there. She didn't need to tell him that she'd also come back for some sort of closure—he knew that. He had to.

"Yeah, movers came this morning."

"I guess I'd've known that if I ever came over anymore." Emily had refused many of Hotch's invitations over to his apartment ever since the night she'd found out about Seattle. She hadn't been sure she'd be able to keep things platonic until his departure, but she'd known from the get-go that it definitely wasn't going to happen if they spent any more time alone in private places than was absolutely necessary.

"You've had a lot going on," Hotch said.

"Oh, please. I haven't been busy. Just in denial." She offered Hotch a pitiful grin.

"You know, I wish now more than ever that I didn't have to go. I hate to leave you in the middle of all this."

"No, it's—it's okay. We'll probably be going to France in a couple of days."

"He's being buried there?"

"Oh, I guarantee you. And our family lives pretty much everywhere, so no matter which way you slice it, most of us will have to travel." Emily set her purse down on the kitchen counter.

"Ah. Can I get you a beer? That's all I have left in the fridge. Pizza's on the way."

"I think I'll pass on the beer, but pizza sounds good."

"Sorry, there's nowhere to sit. I just left my mattress and some sheets. And toiletries and a couple changes of clothes. Everything else went with the movers. Speaking of clothes, I need to remember to return that tux."

"Thanks for coming tonight, and for doing the whole costume thing. I hope you had fun."

Hotch smiled so widely that he was sure it wasn't convincing. "Yeah, it was great. It was a good idea." Emily nodded and crossed her arms over her middle, leaning against the counter in the kitchen only big enough for one. Hotch made it big enough for two, leaning against the fridge right across from Emily. "How are you holding up?" he asked gently, as if speaking to a child.

"Okay, I think," Emily said, though her voice quivered. She drew in a deep shaky breath, her cheeks flushing right before her eyes went shiny. "Sorry," she said, sniffling.

"It's okay." Hotch closed the four-inch gap between them and circled his arms tightly around her. "I'm so sorry, Emily." She wept rather quietly into Hotch's shoulder for a few long minutes, calming down gradually, pulling away just as another knock issued at the door. "You gonna be okay for a second?"

"Yeah, yeah," Emily said, nodding hastily and waving Hotch away. She waited until he vacated the kitchen, then made her way to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. Taking comfort in the fact that Hotch had seen her look much worse than this, she re-emerged and took a slice of pizza from the box that sat open on the counter, holding it with a napkin.

"Hey, umm, would it make you feel better to talk about your grandfather? Tell me some funny stories or something? When my dad passed away, we did that a lot. It helped."

"Maybe, I don't know. I've never lost anyone close before. Not that we'd been close the past few years. He didn't even have a phone up there. He'd get messages only if locals from down in town came up to visit. So when I say I hadn't seen him in five years, it means I hadn't really talked to him in five years, either."

The guilt behind Emily's voice pained Hotch. "That happens. A lot of people manage to lose touch with their relatives who do have phones. It's nothing to feel bad about. Try telling me about a happy memory." He took a large bite of pizza to let Emily know the floor was hers.

"Okay. Umm, one time, when I was probably thirteen or fourteen, I was staying with him by myself, and a huge brown bear came up to the window. We just froze. I don't know if that's what we were supposed to do, but we sat there for five minutes straight, watching him watching us. It was hilarious. We still tell everyone that story." Emily started to tear up again, so Hotch intervened.

"Okay, not a good idea. I'm sorry. I guess it doesn't work for everyone. Do you want to sit down?"

"Yeah, my feet are killing me, actually." Emily followed Hotch into his bedroom, where the only piece of furniture left resided. She lowered herself down to the beige sheets and stretched her legs out, groaning as she did so.

"Foot rub?" Hotch offered as innocently as possible.

"Don't you want to finish eating?"

"I'm not starving," Hotch lied. "I can finish later." With his dinner being Emily's only objection, he assumed he had permission, so he sat on the floor in front of Emily's feet and removed her shoes. She let him, looking down on him heatedly once he took one of her aching stocking-clad feet into his thick, broad hands.

"So why didn't you just stay in a hotel?" Emily asked, doing her best to repress the noises she wanted to make as Hotch rubbed his tough thumbs into the ball of her foot.

"Not worth the money. I figured it would just be me, and the utilities are still on, so what's one night?"

"Yeah," Emily said, eying the window unit air conditioner that had been giving Hotch problems all summer long. A box fan ran in the other window. Sometimes it was too disgusting for her in his apartment, but he never seemed to mind. "Guess that makes sense."

Hotch continued his work in silence, the only noise in the room being the fan, their breathing, and Emily's occasional delighted moan when she couldn't help it. He could have rubbed her feet all night and been a happy man, but once he cracked Emily's toes for her, she folded her feet in front of her so as to end the massage. "Thanks," she said.

"Of course," Hotch said, sitting next to her. "Nice touch with the stockings, by the way. Is that a seam up the back?"

"Mm-hmm. Thanks for noticing. I didn't think anyone did."

"More pizza?" he asked as he stood up suddenly, wolfed down his pizza crust and crumpled his napkin.

Emily looked down at her half-eaten piece. "I'm okay," she said. "Thanks."

"No problem." Hotch came back from the kitchen empty-handed, not wanting to eat if Emily wasn't going to. Reclaiming his seat next to his silent friend, he thought of what to say that might make this night a little easier on her, or on them both. "Feeling a little better?"

A pensive look washed over Emily's face, signaling to Hotch that she was looking for how to phrase an honest answer instead of giving him some canned response. "Honestly, I don't think so. Tonight just…I can't even begin to describe how much tonight sucks. I lost my grandfather, and now I'm losing you." She leaned readily into Hotch when he gripped her far shoulder.

"I'll only be a phone call away. And at least me going away was something we could both prepare for. Goodbyes are never fun, but it won't be goodbye forever. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

"I know. Maybe this summer was just too nice. Too good to be true. I mean, it _was_ true, but now it's back to reality, you know? I'm not a kid. I need to start working."

"Taking a summer off to think doesn't make you childish. Maybe running away from the mall police does," he said lightheartedly, "But this summer sounds like something you needed. And I'm sure you'll figure out something soon in terms of a job."

"Yeah," Emily said vaguely. She twisted her torso and went chest-to-chest with Hotch, burying her face in his neck, drawing in his freshly cleaned scent with deep breaths. When her mouth, without her permission, touched his neck, her heart thudded, though not in protest. She'd felt this with him more times than she could count. Felt like taking all of him, or at least all he would offer. Before she could second guess herself, she parted her lips considerably and took a bit of Hotch's sweet flesh between them. He responded favorably, his hands going instantly to her hair. Apparently he'd been planning to run his fingers through her usually straight locks, but her curls were an obstacle. One small sigh passed his lips before he palmed her cheek and guided her face to meet his. Following a fleeting union of their eyes, he snatched up the lips he he'd gone far too long without tasting.

It was without a single thought that Emily opened her mouth to Hotch immediately, rubbing her eager tongue against his. She gathered his face in her small hands, trying to will him to unzip her dress. Not only could she hardly breathe in the damned thing, but she'd decided now that she couldn't let him leave. Not without this.

"Are you sure?" Hotch asked breathily, breaking the kiss for just a moment when Emily released his face and reached behind her to unzip her dress when he hadn't tuned in to her telepathy.

"Yeah," she sighed, kissing him fervently for another moment before using her hand to push herself off the mattress. Hotch stood swiftly with her and watched, his hands caressing newly exposed skin once Emily unzipped her dress the rest of the way and slid it down her hips. She donned the same strapless bra he'd seen once before, but his attention was focused more keenly on the black lacy panties over a matching garter belt that held up her black seamed stockings. He felt a warm stirring in a place that craved attention as he stepped closer to her and braced her face with his hands. They shared yet another frenzied kiss, a sloppy and unapologetic one. Emily broke away in due time, grasping the hem of Hotch's t-shirt and pulling it over his head. A tug of his arm urged back down onto the bed with her. She gladly accepted his weight on top of her for a while, but eventually he shifted his weight to the side a bit, rubbing his growing member against her thigh, desperately wishing to rid himself of his shorts.

His wish was granted soon enough when Emily pushed at the waistband, sliding her hands up his firm, bare ass once his shorts slid underneath them. An appreciative moan vibrated against Emily's velvety lips right before Hotch rolled off to the side to lose his shorts. Once he faced her again, he made it obvious that he enjoyed what he saw before him, but that he also wanted more. Emily arched her back to let Hotch do the honors, watching him toss her bra a few feet away. He swelled even further against her leg now as he dotted two kisses on the side of one breast before taking a mouthful of the soft flesh. Emily's breathing went a bit more erratic as Hotch teased her, placing his lips everywhere but on her peaked, rosy nipple. Any frustration she felt was forgotten when he reached a hand between them and rubbed two fingers over the front of her panties. She whimpered at his surprising touch, her breath hitching in her throat when he immediately latched on to her other nipple and bit down gently.

"Hotch, hurry," she gasped, swallowing.

"Hurrying," Hotch said reassuringly before leaving a hurried kiss on her lips. He had to move on knee to the carpet to reach his wallet, which he'd tossed in the corner. He tore open a condom wrapper with his teeth, grunting when Emily took his length into one fist without warning.

Knowing that to have Hotch, finally, she needed to let him do his thing, she lifted her hips and slid her panties down to her feet, kicking them aside, while Hotch made quick work of rolling on the condom and finding a place between her open legs.

Emily made herself comfortable with the single pillow behind her head, then clutched Hotch's back as he positioned himself. Her back arched reflexively, pushing her chest upward, when he started his painstakingly slow entrance. It wasn't until he was fully buried, both of them releasing the breaths they held onto, that he lowered his chest to hers. He swallowed up her lips again before starting the roll of his hips. Her constricted opening throttled him, stroked his shaft so tightly that he didn't know if he'd make it long. His pace remained slow and torturous, letting Emily adjust. She eventually opened up just a little bit more for him, so he propped himself up on his elbows and changed his angle, coming in from higher up.

Emily moaned heavily beneath Hotch, looking at him helplessly, none of it for show, as his quicker pace smoothly pleased her from deep within. She busied her hands by letting them glide up and down the firm musculature on his back, her fingernails ghosting along his skin. After a few minutes, she felt herself climbing higher, and thanked her lucky stars when Hotch started the same journey, his hips pulling and pushing with even more speed now. His motions soon lost control and predictability as he reached down to take in Emily's lips again. Their tongues slipped carelessly against each other. Needing him not only faster but deeper, Emily hitched her still stocking-sheathed legs around Hotch and kicked her heels into his ass.

"Hotch," she whined. "Ohhhh, Hotch!"

"Mmm Em," he replied, an inferno raging where his flesh now slapped against hers. "So close, baby…" he added, panting now.

Emily peaked before she meant to, unable to control her body. She cried out loud enough for the neighbors to hear as she came long and hard around him. "Come for me, Aaron," she whispered as Hotch continued his sprint to the finish line and she rode out her own orgasm. He drew in a deep breath and kept it as the waves of mind-numbing pleasure coursed through him. He said nothing, only groaned into the crook of Emily's neck as he carried himself over the edge.

"That's it," Emily breathed encouragingly, enjoying the residual motion between her legs, almost regretting that he wouldn't keep going long enough for her to come a second time.

—

The sticky heat roused Emily many hours later. The fact that she was nestled into Hotch, her back to his chest, probably wasn't helping. His head was on the pillow his arm opened to serve as one for her. Sometime before settling in, they'd covered themselves in the sheets, Emily remembered now, but both of them had kicked their hot feet free sometime between now and then. The buzzing fan wasn't doing a thing to keep the room at a livable temperature.

There was no way she was getting back to sleep, at least not this hot. That much Emily knew. The rising sun shined through the window, which neither of them had thought to block with the blinds the night before. The bright light fell over their haphazard piles of clothing here and there. Emily saw her dress and her stockings and garter belt (which Hotch had insisted on taking off personally before they turned in) crumpled on the floor. She began to think of whether she should run for it. As much as she'd wanted a better goodbye with Hotch, and as much as she'd wanted this practically since they'd befriended one another, it dawned on her now that coming here had been a very big mistake.

Her slight movement in the direction of her clothes jostled Hotch awake immediately.

"Hey," he mumbled, brushing his hand over her stomach. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just boiling."

"It is pretty nasty in here, isn't it?"

"Ugh, how do you ever sleep in this?" Emily asked, rolling onto her back.

Hotch gazed down at the beauty next to him, the smoothly rolling curves, the deep, dark eyes framed by lashes so long and bold that he wondered if they were real. The dark hair resting in random waves on her shoulder. "It's not easy getting an affordable apartment around here with all the basic amenities I _do_ have, let alone working air conditioning," he said, leaning down for a kiss. Emily granted him that much, but moaned in protest and tore her lips away when he began to roll on top of her. "What's wrong?" he asked, backing off.

Emily shut her eyes and made a quick decision. She knew she could leave and Hotch couldn't rightfully pose any objection. They'd agreed to remain only friends, and he'd impressed upon her that he wanted her to pick a plan and stick with it. He was breaking his own rules right along with her. He couldn't be angry with her if she felt stupid for last night. So she knew she could leave. She could remove his arm from around her, get dressed, and walk away.

But that notion was unbearable now. "It's just too hot. Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Oh, of course not. Go for it. There's a clean towel in there."

"Thanks." Unable to help herself, Emily left Hotch with a kiss. She shut the bathroom door behind her, hoping that was hint enough that she wanted to take a shower to clean herself off and cool down, not dirty herself up and heat things up. She set the water to lukewarm and stepped in. She thought at first that the shower would be a good place to think, to try and convince herself she had to go, to figure out a way to say goodbye to Hotch without hurting him. But the longer she lathered the shampoo in her hair, the longer she ran her hands along her own body to wash it clean, the more aroused she became. By the time the lukewarm water started going cold, Emily had no will power left. She didn't think she'd actually waltz back to bed naked, but she knew she couldn't leave. Not yet. She needed to be close to him—whatever form that closeness took—for a little while longer. When she opened the bathroom door, she saw a pair of green drawstring shorts and a grey t-shirt with an FBI emblem on it (she almost laughed), both Hotch's, as well as her own panties, folded on the floor. "Thanks," she said again.

"No problem," Hotch said from the bedroom, just out of Emily's line of vision. She dressed, gave her hair one last tousle with the towel, checked herself in the mirror to make sure her makeup had all been removed. She found Hotch lying in bed, now with his shorts back on.

"Hi," she said meekly.

"Hey." Hotch's ankles were crossed over the end of the mattress and his hands clasped behind his head. "Cool down a bit?"

"Yeah, a little." Emily leaned against the door frame, watching Hotch watch her while she toyed with the drawstring on her borrowed shorts.

"You hungry? There's leftover pizza, or we could go out," Hotch offered up.

Food sounded heavenly, but Emily wanted something else even more. She shook her head and walked over to the bed, lying on top of the sheets again with Hotch. Now his body heat wasn't so repulsive, so she shamelessly buried her face into his chest and hooked her top arm underneath his.

"You smell good," Hotch remarked, gently nudging some wet strands of hair off of Emily's face.

"I smell like you."

"Like I said..." Hotch said with a grin, earning himself a little pinch from Emily.

"_You_ smell sweaty."

"At the moment, yeah, I guess I do. Want me to shower?"

"No," Emily said, drawing away slightly so Hotch could see her eyes, but grasping his waist so he couldn't go anywhere. Once she saw his eyes searching hers for some sort of hidden message, she closed hers and moved her chin down to her chest, suddenly afraid of what Hotch might see.

"What's the matter?" Hotch asked, knowing it was a horrible question, but not knowing what else to ask. Maybe he could at least figure out what was bothering her the most at this moment. As much as he cared and didn't want her to be hurting at all, he couldn't help but hope that it was he over whom she was so upset. He had to remind himself that her grandfather had just passed away, though, and that he himself was probably the least of her worries.

"I just wish you could stay," Emily said simply. "Does that sound pathetic?"

"Of course not. I wish I could stay, too. But this doesn't—" Hotch stopped his sentence only briefly, perhaps just so he could say he thought about it first. "It doesn't have to be like this. Why don't you come with me? I mean, if you're not finding anything here, and you're not sure what you want to do anyway, why not come to Seattle? It's a huge city."

The objection was clear in Emily's voice. "Hotch—"

He cut her off rudely with his lips, sealing off her protests. "It makes sense," he said, only breaking away long enough to get his point in before smothering her again.

Emily knew that now she just wasn't being fair. She was downright lying, letting Hotch think he could change her mind. This provoked her to pull away.

"Emily—"

"I'm thirsty. Do you have any glasses left here?"

Somewhat impatiently, Hotch sighed. "Maybe. Let's go check."

Emily knew she wasn't going to get Hotch off her back, so she let him follow her to the kitchen. He did find a lone plastic cup in the cupboard above the sink and filled it for her with cold tap water.

Emily grinned her gratitude and took a long drink, dabbing the corner of her lips once her thirst—she hadn't truly lied about being thirsty—was satisfied.

"Better?" Hotch asked.

"Mm-hmm," Emily barely had the time to utter before she was pressed against the counter firmly yet in a controlled manner by Hotch, who framed her face with his thick, somewhat sweaty hands and kissed her with fervor again. Nothing in her heart or her mind told her to resist this time. Her primal urges, along with the realization that she'd never been in love until now, drove her to reach around Hotch's bare back and push the heels of her hands upward until she reached his shoulders. What started out to be a hard but clean kiss turned frenzied over the course of a minute or two, at which point Emily felt something unexpected yet perfectly reasonable against her thigh. Expelling a sharp breath through her nose, as her lips were smashed against Hotch's for the time being, Emily reached between them and lay her hand against Hotch's swollen cock that tented his shorts. Hotch faltered, then smiled against Emily's lips. "That was all I had, prophylactic-wise" he informed her. "Are you on the pill?"

"Yes, but you're still using a condom. There's one somewhere in my purse." Emily reached for her black glittery satchel and unzipped it. Hotch sucked gingerly on her neck in the meantime, wanting a taste but trying not to leave a mark. He multitasked, dropping his shorts at the same time. While Emily dug through her small bag, Hotch pulled the knot loose on the drawstring of Emily's borrowed shorts, then pushed them and her own panties down her hips at once. She finally found what she was looking for, handed it over, and hoisted herself up onto the counter top while He sheathed himself so quickly that she didn't even have time to think about removing the shirt of his that she wore. When she finally did think about it, as he assaulted her with frenzied kisses again, she decided that making love with him with this particular shirt on didn't bother her a bit.

Emily had known when she'd perched herself on the counter top that it was just a matter of time before she smashed her head back against a cabinet. At least she'd had the sense to position herself away from any handles, because she forgot about her placement already and threw her head back when Hotch entered her. She laughed briefly, nodding when he asked her if she was all right.

Hotch was taking the Lord's name in vain in no time as he pulled himself out and swept his hips forward again. Emily grabbed him in every way possible, her tight heat gripping him like a vice, her heels already pressing encouragingly against his ass, her short but effective nails surely leaving indentations on his upper back.

Their second rendezvous was just as impassioned as the first, though a little less gentle and meticulous at the start. Hotch's hot, muggy breath hit Emily's partly opened mouth as he came nose-to-nose with her, losing focus on her drooping eyes. Soft, helpless moans bubbled up intermittently from her throat as his tempo picked up considerably after a very short period of time.

Occasionally, the soft cotton of the t-shirt Emily hadn't taken off would brush against Hotch's sweaty chest, surprising him. He moved his hands from her hips, which were sitting still just fine on their own, to the hem of the shirt, where he sneaked a hand underneath.

Emily felt herself slipping a bit, so she let go of Hotch's back in favor of reaching behind her for some cabinet handles. Hotch's hand caught Emily completely by surprise when it smoothed along her stomach and traveled upward to squeeze a breast with vigor. After she arched her back against him and knocked her head against the cabinet again, he kneaded her like dough, pinching her hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger to get a different sort of noise out of her.

"Haaa," Emily breathed, not in a laughing way at all, as Hotch toyed with her breast and continued with his hurried pounding at the same time. Hotch slightly stifled her soft cries that followed with his mouth, their lips open and just far enough apart that any lucky observer would be able to see their tongues sliding against one another.

As the waves started to roll between Hotch's legs and he knew his climax was imminent, he found Emily's slippery clit with his free hand and flicked the side of his finger against the tip. Her teeth bore down on his tongue, making him hiss.

"Sorry," Emily panted. "So sorry. Are you okay?"

"It's okay, I'm fine. You gonna come with me?"

"Uh-huh." She struggled to vocalize anything coherent now, being physically gratified in so many ways she was losing count. "Faster," she sighed.

Hotch obliged, amping it up and feeling ready to burst not even a minute later. He waited until Emily's walls started to tighten around him before he moved his hands to join hers up against the cupboard. With a fire that Emily had never seen before, Hotch's eyes drilled holes into hers for a fleeting moment before they were both overwhelmed and could no longer keep their eyes open.

Their clammy fingers interlaced right before Emily dug her fingernails into the back of Hotch's hands so hard that if he wasn't in the middle of the best orgasm of his life, tears would have come to his eyes.

Hotch heard his name cried out repeatedly; it sounded as if it were far off in the distance. After he slowly came down from his own high, cursing all the way, he panted into Emily's ear while her back remained arched, her chest forced out to touch his. "Em," he sighed before dropping a kiss on her temple.

Emily almost wouldn't let Hotch's hands go so he could take care of the condom. "I'm not going anywhere," he said with a light, reassuring laugh and a kiss.

Still without having had caught her breath, Emily hopped off the counter and found out the hard way that her limbs were useless. Luckily, she caught herself on the opposite counter when her knees protested slightly beneath her.

It wasn't long before Emily was coming to her senses. "I should get dressed. I really should get home," she said.

"Of course," Hotch said, disappointed but understanding of what he thought her reasoning was—to get home so her parents knew she was okay and so she could prepare for her departure. "Keep mine, if you'll feel silly going home in a red dress right now."

"Good point," Emily said, searching the linoleum floor for her bottoms, trying to figure out which pair was whose, her heart sinking all the while.

"I meant what I said," Hotch said before he could stop himself. He pulled on his own shorts and watched, without the power to turn his eyes, while Emily finished dressing as well. "You should come with me." He felt a pounding all the way from his chest to his head when he saw the sad—and almost guilty—look on Emily's face. He sensed another attempt at her rejection, despite their second demonstration that what they had was definitely something worth fighting for. He didn't think he'd be able to bear hearing her say no, so he said the only thing he thought might keep her from leaving him. "I love you. Come with me."

Emily's gloomy eyes grew wide at this profession. It tore her to pieces inside knowing that she couldn't return such a sentiment without hurting him further.

"Hotch…"

"Don't," he said authoritatively. "Emily, you know this isn't supposed to be some fling," he went on, closing in on her with slow steps. "If it was, you wouldn't have come back here tonight. You had a clean out. You're going to be traveling soon, and I'm leaving and might never come back. You could have let this come to a natural end. But you didn't."

"I don't think this was just a fling," Emily argued. "But that's not what's important. I…can't go with you. And this is why I said we had to stay friends. I didn't want…_this_," she said, tears brimming her eyelids. "This kind of goodbye is so much harder."

"So you're not denying the fact that this is something worth holding onto."

Emily rolled her watery eyes and backed away from Hotch, further into the tiny kitchen. "That's irrelevant," she said weakly.

"Anything but," Hotch fought back. "What the hell is keeping you here? The parents you can hardly stand to be around? Or the friends you rarely see?"

"It's not about that."

"Then what the hell is it about?" Hotch cried. "Why are you making things so complicated when they don't have to be?"

Emily took a deep breath. She couldn't blame Hotch for raising his voice. "I don't exactly have a lack of job prospects here."

Hotch stopped in his tracks, two feet from Emily. "You told me last night that you still had no idea what you were doing."

"And I'm saying now that that wasn't exactly the truth."

"Why would you feel the need to lie? Did you think I wouldn't be happy for you?"

"That wasn't my reasoning, though it probably would've been rather valid," Emily pointed out. "I just…didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"Can you clarify that at all?"

"I'm looking into going into the Bureau," Emily said, swallowing.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, very seriously. But I didn't want you to think it was because of you."

Hotch's eyebrows twitched. "Why is that even a factor?"

"I didn't want to give you some kind of hope that I was thinking of joining so I could, I don't know, have a job and maybe have you at the same time. Or like I worship you or something." The first part was at least partially true, but Emily knew her last addition was untrue and uncalled for.

"Oh."

"So that's why I can't go with you," Emily said with finality.

Hotch wasn't ready to end the conversation just yet. "So this is a sure thing?"

"Well, if my application is even accepted, then yes. I plan on being in the Bureau in some capacity. But it's not so we can be together—"

"You already said that part," Hotch interjected, his voice dark and deep. "No need to repeat yourself. I get it."

"Hotch," Emily said, taking a step forward, seeing the pain written on his face. "I'm just trying to be realistic."

"By what, coming over here to sleep with me—twice—before you left, as if this wasn't hard enough already? You said it yourself. This kind of goodbye is worse."

"Okay, let's get something straight. I didn't come over here planning to sleep with you. I came to say goodbye, and maybe to distract myself just a little from what's happening at home. But you're the one who came on to me."

"The difference between us is that _I_ thought deep down inside that it would bring us together, that I could convince you to try, but _you_ went along with it knowing it wouldn't change a thing."

"I'm sorry," Emily said, a tear spilling over and tickling her cheek on the way down. "I thought that—"

"You thought what? That since I'm a guy, sex doesn't mean anything? It's just a good time? Do you really think I'm that shallow?"

"I wasn't thinking," Emily countered.

"I can see that now."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

"You can start by telling me why you're so dead set on doing this. What's more important to you?"

"Hotch, I'm not the kind of girl who gives up everything for a guy. I'm just not."

"So I'm a guy. That's it? Just some guy?"

"_Any_ guy. I wouldn't do that for _any_ guy. Besides, I don't see you offering to give up _your_ job to have a relationship with _me_."

"That's because my job is a _job_! Your job is a _dream_!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Emily asked, her sharp eyebrows slanting.

"Not what you think," Hotch said, searching for a way to backpedal his way out of this one. "I'm not insinuating anything about your ability to get in. I'm sure that if you go for it, it's yours. What I'm _trying_ to say is that I don't get why you're more sure about that than you are about this, about us. You've never set foot inside the Academy. But you spent this entire summer with me."

"Exactly," Emily said. "A summer. Don't turn this into something it isn't," she said, grabbing her purse and deciding she would just drive home barefoot. It would look less ridiculous than wearing her heels from the night before. Besides, the shoes weren't worth the walk back to Hotch's room. Nothing was.

"Good luck finding someone who will put up with your fucking mind games, Emily."

"Hate me all you want, but—" Emily started, shrugging her shoulders in a cocky kind of way.

"You know what I hate about you?"

"I don't know. What?"

Hotch had been successful at holding any tears at bay so far, and his resolve didn't falter. "That I could never hate you. I meant what I said, even if you don't feel—"

"Don't beg, Hotch," Emily said in feigned disgust.

"I'm not begging."

"Then can I go?"

"Feel free." Hotch's final words rang in his ears as he watched Emily leave.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review. :)**


	11. Looking Over Your Shoulder

**A/N: Haven't really got anything to say except; please enjoy! And read the second A/N at the end of this chapter ;)**

**Genre: Angst**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

**2006**

Hotch sat at the small kitchen table, his right thumb and index finger were absentmindedly twisting the slim gold band on his left ring finger, as he looked out the narrow window at the snow swirling by in the dim street light. The shiny metal felt foreign against his skin. He tore his eyes away from the happily dancing snowflakes and glanced down at his hand; the ring looked foreign too. He sucked in a long breath, trying to think of a reason why, after so many months, it was still on his finger. He honestly didn't know why he was still wearing it. The ring was for all intents and purposes a symbol of their eternal love for each other. It was supposed to be a beautiful reminder of the bond they shared together. But why wear it when, in all honesty, that love had fizzled out some time ago.

His best guess as to why it was still sitting there on his finger, reminding him of his failure every time he looked at it, was that legally they _were_ still married and perhaps some part of him just didn't feel comfortable taking the ring off when he in fact still had a wife. But no matter how he looked at it he couldn't deny the fact that he had failed. He and his wife, his soon-to-be ex-wife, had not lasted in the long run. He wasn't sure when they had fallen out of love, he didn't think that there was a specific day or week or month, but he knew that it was over well before the day, four months earlier, when she had asked him to pack a bag and leave.

He looked at the snow glistening outside the window one more time, then back down at ring glimmering on his hand and felt a weight press uncomfortably on his heart. He'd spent most of the day trying to keep busy, he'd been a few hours (okay, six hours) at work even though it was Sunday and then when he'd come home he's spent another few hours re-organizing his closet. But as day grew to night he couldn't save his mind from the road it wanted to follow any longer. The date in the calendar glared at him and he couldn't stop his mind from thinking how if they'd still been together they would have been married six years on this very day.

_**2000**_

The black velvet box was tiny but still it felt like it weighed at least a ton as it lay in his suit pocket. It had been prominent in his mind all night, not for one moment had he been able to not think about it. He'd been carrying it around for hours and as the night went on he wished more and more that he would have taken some time to form some sort of plan. He had thought that moments like these would just present themselves. That when the time was right he would just know. But he had been wrong.

Their night together so far had been wonderful. Everything had been as close to perfect as it could have been. Except for one thing; he couldn't shake the feeling that they were rushing things. He knew that wasn't something that you were supposed to be thinking on the night that you were going to propose to your girlfriend. But he convinced himself as well as he could that he was just nervous.

He had known Haley since high school. They had been high school sweethearts and very much in love. She was his first love. But they had lost touch when he had gone to college in another state and she had stayed in Virginia.

Then a little over a year ago, by some fortunate coincidence, they had bumped into each other at the supermarket of all places. She had asked if he wanted to grab a drink. He had accepted her offer at first just because he was tired of being alone every night. He hadn't thought that it would lead to something serious but it had. And now he was sitting opposite her, the soft candlelight dancing across her pretty face, and he felt as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He was fairly sure that when he popped the question he would get a positive answer. Haley had been dropping hints for the last few months that she was ready to take that final step and the last few weeks the hints had turned more and more into flashing neon signs. She wanted to get married, he was sure of that. It almost made him a little scared that if he didn't ask her soon she would get tired of waiting for him and he would be all alone again.

He knew, very well, that that wasn't a legitimate reason to ask someone to take such a huge step – to agree to spend the rest of their lives together – but he had let someone who loved him slip through his fingers once before and he wasn't prepared to let that happen again. He finally had someone in his life, someone great, who loved him and he would do anything to not see her go.

"Aaron?"

Haley's gentle tone and the sound of his first name – she had never taken to calling him Hotch even though everyone else who knew him did so now – shook him more than he thought it could. He had been so lost in his mind that he had almost forgotten that she was sitting right in front of him. He looked up. She slowly brought her coffee cup from her lips and raised one eyebrow. "What's the matter Aaron?" she said. "You've been so quiet tonight."

"I'm nervous, I guess," Hotch said, looking down at his empty plate rather than into his girlfriend's eyes.

"Why?" She sounded worried, so he brought his gaze up to meet hers again. "Tonight has been perfect. You have nothing to be nervous about." She gave him a sweet smile and he felt something flicker inside him. He could see the love in her eyes and he hoped that she saw something similar in his.

"Actually, I do," he said, slipping one hand into his pocket and pulling out the tiny velvet box. Haley's eyes grew wide as he popped the lid open. "Haley Brooks," he said, taking her hand in his across the table, "I love you. You were my first love and I hope that you will be my only love. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I was wondering if you would do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

He fell silent watching Haley as she processed his little speech. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears for what felt like forever. His pulse rose, he felt sick. Was this happening again? Would he be left with nothing again? Then finally, or maybe just twenty seconds had passed he didn't know, a smile spread across her face and her bright blue eyes sparkled.

"Of course!" she said, one tear slipping slowly down her cheek leaving a little streak of mascara behind it, "Of course I'll be your wife, Aaron." She sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks, her left hand still clutching Hotch's tightly as if she worried that he would change his mind and leave if she didn't hang on to him.

Hotch managed to get the ring out of the box using only his left hand and as he slipped it onto Haley's slim finger he felt a strange mix of joy and relief. Smiling through tear stained lashes Haley looked from the ring sparkling on her finger up into Hotch's eyes. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too." He got up from his seat, closing the short distance between them in one stride, and pulled her into his arms. Haley leaned into him, sighing against his chest, and he closed his eyes. As he ran his hand through her short blond hair his mind wandered and for a brief second he imagined himself running his hands through long, wildly curling, dark hair. And as he drew a deep breath he could swear that it was Emily's flowery perfume that greeted his nostrils. Pushing those thoughts to the very back of his mind, berating himself for even letting them to the forefront for a second, he took Haley's chin and guided her lips towards his in a gentle kiss.

* * *

**2006**

Emily shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable in the small space given to her. She leaned back, tilted her head, looking out the small cabin window, and watched the clouds as they lazily passed by on the other side. On the fold-down table in front of her sat a full cup of coffee that had gone cold a while ago. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around an in-flight magazine that she had given up on reading about twenty minutes earlier. She took a few deep breaths, but filling her lungs with the dry cabin air did nothing to alleviate her trembling nerves.

She could hardly remember the last time she had felt as nervous as she was feeling right now. A little droplet of sweat trickled slowly down her forehead as final proof of her internal battle. Had it been just another assignment she wouldn't have had been bothered at all. She had been in the Bureau ten years and she'd had plenty of assignments at local field offices. But they had been desk jobs. They hadn't been her dream job.

She had been dreaming about being a part of the BAU since she left the Academy and finally after years of hard work her dream was coming true. Every bit of paperwork was in order; she would start the next day. She had talked to Chief Strauss the day before and had got her final instructions and tomorrow she would meet her new team and her unit chief.

Though no matter how excited she was about finally reaching her dream, she couldn't deny the butterflies fluttering around her stomach. And it wasn't just the new job that was causing those butterflies to roam around her insides, it was the fact that she was finally going back to Washington that also knocked her off kilter. She had only been back a few times over the last ten years, her parents had been overseas for most of those ten years and she'd rarely had the time or seen any reason to go back. But here she was and she knew that with going back to that city a whole mess of memories would follow.

_**2002**_

She stood still, gazing up at the so very familiar building in front of her. She hadn't realized where she was until it was too late and now she couldn't move even one inch. It was as if she was rooted to the ground.

She had been back in DC only for a few days. She was back for her mother's sixtieth birthday and there had been no way for her of getting out of it. So far the preparations for the Ambassador's quite elaborate celebration had taken up most of her time and she had been able to block any other thoughts that might have wanted to take her attention captive. Caterers ordering the wrong type of salmon, flower arrangements that were lilac instead of mauve and musicians who didn't know her mother's favorite songs had helped her keep the memories at bay.

For the first time in a week though she had an afternoon to herself and her mother had insisted that she'd get out of the house. Relenting to her mother's wishes rather quickly to save herself a lecture she had decided to go for a short walk. A short walk together with some window shopping and a coffee to go had turned into a long walk and before she knew it she was standing by that building she knew so well.

It was almost ten years since she had been there but she could still find his windows within seconds. Third floor the fourth and fifth windows from the right. So many times had she stood on the inside looking out at the city that standing on the outside looking in felt strange. But as she looked at the familiar white window frames, only the curtains had changed, she could feel all those feelings and memories that she had been working so hard to suppress flood back and she felt herself being transported nine years back in time.

She still remembered the cold counter top and the kitchen cabinet. She remembered the lone mattress on the floor. The way the cold water had felt on her skin and the way Hotch's breath had tickled her as he breathed into her mouth when their lips had met in kiss after kiss. The lone tear that slid down her cheek took her by surprise. She thought that it was out of her system by now. That she got Hotch out of her system.

Trusting her legs not to buckle under her she made her way carefully to a nearby bench and sat down. Memories kept assaulting her from every direction, making her head spin. She could hear Hotch's heated voice, as they said their last word's to each other, ringing clearly in her head. She could see the hurt and humiliation that filled his eyes when she had told him not to beg.

She couldn't even begin to count the amount of times she had kicked herself so hard for those words. She had never meant to sound so harsh… so cold hearted. She knew how much they must have hurt him. When she left his apartment the first thing she had wanted to do was to run back and apologize. But she had stopped herself at the very last second standing with her fingers around the doorknob. No matter how much she had wanted him she had known that her going back wouldn't have changed their situation. He would be going to Seattle and she was going to the Academy and going back one more time, if only to apologize, would only have made the separation that much more bitter. But as she walked out of his apartment complex there hadn't been one single thought in her mind that she was walking out of his life and though she was too afraid to say it out loud or even to think it she never thought that Hotch would let her walk away.

The first few weeks in France all her time had been taken up by dealing with her Grandfather's funeral. Her mother had been commissioned to Estonia and had been forced to leave her family for a few weeks and Emily's father had never been the strong one under pressure. So it had fallen onto her to take on that heavy task and for just a little while she hadn't thought about Hotch at all.

Then life returned to normal, or at least what was supposed to be normal though every day she spent at her parent's home felt dull and quiet when Hotch wasn't around. And almost every room held some memory. The hallway were she had met him for the first time and thought he was the cutest thing she had ever seen with his dimples and boyish smile. The small study that had been his makeshift office where she had stood countless times, one hip propped against the doorframe, trying to get him to finish early so that they could hang out. The dining room where they had spent one of their first evenings together laughing and having fun. And the living room where she had avoided him and lied to him on their last night together.

She had been relieved when the time had come for her to move to the Academy dorms and she could leave all the things that had happened over the summer behind her. She had still wished that there was some way for her and Hotch to rekindle what they'd had. But pride and fear had kept her from picking up the phone. She hadn't heard a single word from him since they had left, not that that had surprised her given how awful she had been to him, but she had still foolishly hoped that he would call her. But nothing had happened.

Then when two months had passed, with still no word from Hotch, she had simply given up on ever seeing him again

**A/N: Thanks for reading! As you may have noticed we are taking some liberties with some more timelines and backstories here, but as this is Crackfic with an AH I'm assuming that no one is surprised… Please let us know what you think in a short (or loooong) review! Thanks!**


	12. Vengeance

**A/N: Thank you to**** sarramaks for helping me with some of the historical research!**

**Genre: Western**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch  
**

* * *

**December 2006**

**Quantico, VA**

Emily pulled her pencil skirt taut and took a manila folder out of the box on her kitchen table. She'd been too busy unpacking to go through the details of the folder's contents. Come to think of it, she hadn't even looked for the name of her direct supervisor. Section Chief Strauss hadn't mentioned him or her by name when the two of them had met. Nowhere in her orders, however, was the name of anyone on her team—the closest superior was Strauss. Emily shrugged and went to the Academy anyway, intent on meeting her unit chief. She decided the best she could do, without making a fool out of herself to a stranger, was to go to Strauss' office again and ask politely if there had been a mistake.

"Come in," Strauss said before Emily could even knock on her door frame. "Agent Prentiss. Hello."

"Good afternoon, ma'am. I, uh, was looking through my paperwork, and it doesn't say anywhere who my unit chief actually is. Not a great way to start my first day, I suppose," she said with a shy grin.

"Actually, your unit chief hasn't even been informed of your joining the team yet."

Emily's smile faded away. "Oh, he hasn't? Or she? Is that a problem?"

"In terms of your joining the team? No. However, the team left for a case in San Antonio just this morning."

"Oh. I guess I won't be starting today, then?" Emily said, trying to plaster a smile back on.

"I'm afraid not. Cases can last anywhere from a day to a couple of weeks. I'll call you when they return and you can meet with Agent Hotchner." Emily almost dropped her box. Her struggle to maintain a grip on it was clear to Strauss, who lifted an eyebrow.

"Agent Hotchner? As in Aaron Hotchner?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" Strauss asked, her tone suggesting that it would be somewhat unfortunate for Emily, were it true.

"Ah, yes, actually. He did security clearances for my mother when he first started in the Bureau. Casual acquaintances," she managed to say without stuttering.

"Well then, I suppose it will be nice to have a familiar face around when you start," Strauss replied with little enthusiasm. "I'll see you soon."

"I look forward to it. Have a nice day, ma'am." Emily nodded once and turned on her heel, wondering where the ladies room was in case she felt the need to hurl, hoping she could make it home before she had a nervous breakdown.

**San Antonio, TX**

"All right, everyone," Hotch said as the BAU jet slowed to a halt on the tarmac, "I want Reid to come with me to the Alamo Mission to look at the first crime scene. I know the local PD doesn't think this homicide is related to the other two, since the MO is different, but I think there's a link, even if it isn't the same unsub. Obviously, all the victims are Mexican, but I think there's more of a connection than that. JJ, they're expecting you at the station. Gideon and Morgan, take one of the two remaining crime scenes each. We need to catch this unsub before he strikes again, which will most likely be tonight. I'll let you know when Reid and I are finished and we can pick up where you left off."

Everyone followed Hotch off of the jet, where two officers from the San Antonio Police Department were waiting with cruisers.

"Officers Sterling and Withers?" Hotch said. The middle-aged, beer-bellied officers nodded and held out their hands, which Hotch shook firmly. "I'm SSA Hotchner, and these are SSAs Gideon, Morgan, and Jareau, and Dr. Reid. Did your sheriff pass along my request?"

"Yessir," Officer Sterling said, opening up the back door of one of his cruisers and pulling out a stack of cowboy hats.

"Having us wear jeans and flannel wasn't enough?" Morgan complained, holding out his hand reluctantly for a hat.

"Keep complaining and we'll go shopping for cowboy boots," Hotch warned, sticking his hat on.

"If I would've thought of it, I would've brought mine," Gideon said.

"Me too," Reid agreed, somewhat disappointed.

"You know this is a metro area, and most people don't dress in western attire, right, Agent?" Officer Withers asked with a derisive grin.

"In my experience, it's best not to look too official on some cases," Hotch answered.

"Like when you work a case in the only state that's allowed to fly its state flag at the same height as the U.S. flag?" Reid asked. Hotch shot him a look.

"Hotch just wanted to play dress-up," Morgan muttered to JJ, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. She rolled her eyes and pointed to Officer Sterling's cruiser.

—

Reid and Hotch stood in front of a beautiful eighteenth-century chapel with a relatively flat façade, which was now obstructed by yellow police tape. The entire Mission of the Alamo was closed, as a homicide had taken place three nights before, right in front of the chapel. The unsub, or one of them, had achieved this with a close-range gunshot wound to the stomach using a minié ball in what had to be a muzzleloader, leaving black gunpowder residue behind. The other two murders had taken place in two different locations nowhere near the mission and had involved the use of more modern weaponry, indicated by residue from smokeless gunpowder. This didn't bode well for Hotch's argument that the incidents were related, but he'd learned with his years in the BAU so far to at least humor his gut instinct until he could prove it wrong. "How up-to-date are you on the history of the Battle of the Alamo?" Reid asked.

"_Up-to-date_?" Hotch asked, turning around to face Reid with a smirk on his face while he snapped on his blue evidence gloves. "Why? Has anything changed in the past two centuries?"

Reid looked perplexed for a moment, then shook his head. "You know what I mean."

"I could use a little refresher," Hotch said. "I'm not the biggest history buff."

"Knowing your U.S. history facts doesn't require being a history buff. It requires being in the third grade."

"What's gotten into you?" Hotch asked, chuckling. Reid's snarky comments were proving to be some much-needed reprieve from Hotch's constant bickering with Haley over this, that, and the other thing.

"History gives me a high," Reid replied, sighing contentedly and comedically.

"Well, then. Battle of the Alamo. Give me a two-minute refresher course. Let's try to think of this murder in isolation. Forget what we talked about on the jet regarding the other murders for now."

"Got it. The Alamo was originally Mission San Anonio de Valero, built by the Spanish Empire in the eighteenth century to convert Native Americans to Christianity, specifically Roman Catholicism, of course. Near the turn of the century, the Alamo was abandoned, only to be taken over by the Mexican Army. They held it until 1835, at which point a general of the Mexican Army surrendered it to the Texian Army. Long story short—"

"I'll believe it when I hear it…"

"Long story short," Reid continued as if he hadn't heard Hotch's muttering, "Twenty-four hundred Mexican soldiers besieged the mission for twelve days. On the thirteenth day, they attacked. They outnumbered the Texians by about twelve to one and killed all but two of them. General Santa Anna, who led the Mexicans in this particular battle, was rumored to be very cruel to his enemies, which was a driving force behind the growth and bolstering of the Texian Army. The Texians wanted revenge, and they got it at the Battle of San Jacinto, six weeks later, which ended the revolution."

"Doesn't sound as exciting as it was in the movies and such I saw as a kid," Hotch said.

"That's because pop culture did quite a number on it, as it's done with most of history. For instance, most old-west towns were actually relatively low on annual murders compared to equally sized towns elsewhere in the country. Most towns in the west averaged only one and a half murders a year, and not all from gunshots. The fight at the OK Corral ended with three dead, and that was Tombstone, Arizona's most violent year on record."

"So spaghetti westerns helped misinform America about the old West. What about the people who live in those towns now?" Hotch asked. "What's their take?"

"I imagine the enthusiasts know the facts, but most locals nowadays came from all parts of the world. Most of them don't have a history in the area. Same with many Americans. The population is so diverse that very few people have direct ties to people who saw their town as it was two or three hundred years ago, if they're lucky enough to live in a place so old and rich with history."

"So most people here don't know any more about the Alamo than a third-grader?"

"That's probably a fair statement," Reid agreed.

"Interesting. But there are surely people here who are more deeply-rooted in the history of the Alamo and might have more of a chip on their shoulder. Caretakers of this museum, for example."

"Actually, since the late nineteenth century, the museum has been strictly under the care of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas, or DRT, which, as the name suggests, only allows membership to women, all of whom must have ties to someone who was loyal to Texas before its annexation. But just because the only caretakers are women doesn't mean men wouldn't have access. I'm sure many DRT members are married, some to men who might have similar ties to Texan history. Even if there's some sort of confidentiality oath involved when joining, which I'm sure there is, some are bound to break it."

"I think we should focus there, then. People who would have access to the compound at night, people who would have a personal vendetta against Mexicans, a vendetta so strong and so deeply woven into the history of the Alamo that they would feel the need to kill as a means of revenge, and kill _here_, where there are presumably multiple security guards on duty. How he—"

"—_or she_—" Reid added.

"—evaded them, I have no idea," Hotch said.

"Easy. Caretaker comes in one night and says there's been some vandalism—somewhere far away from the chapel—and thinks some teenagers might've been sneaking in at night. She directs the security guards away from where she wants to take her first victim. The files we got said the security guards' stories matched up, and they were all seen on at least one security camera nowhere near the chapel at the time the gunshot was reported. So they're clear."

"Good thinking. But be careful, Reid. First, we know how rare female unsubs are, and their attacks are almost always personal."

"But this _is_ personal."

"Not personal enough for a woman, I don't think. Also, don't phrase this as anyone's first murder. I want to look at this one in isolation first. Even though I think this _is_ the same unsub, this murder is clearly different from the others, and it can give us insight as to why the unsub moved outside of the compound for the rest of the murders."

"If it's the same unsub," Reid said.

"Right."

—

"What do we have?" Hotch asked once the entire team reconvened in the evidence room that JJ had set up at the police station.

"Gideon and I already regrouped. No physical evidence left behind at any of the crime scenes. This guy's organized," Morgan said.

"Is there anything else that links the crime scenes you two visited?" Hotch asked Gideon and Morgan.

"Not the crime scenes," Gideon said, staring at the table as he spoke, "but since we got back before you, we called up Garcia and had a little chat with her."

"We had her run names to find connections," Morgan added.

"We tried that on the jet. Did you think of more search parameters?" Hotch asked.

"Yes, sir," Garcia chirped from the laptop Hotch hadn't even seen was on. She smiled when his body jerked. "Our friends Morgan and Gideon had an idea. Why not _assume_ the first murder is related to the rest, and see if the second and third victims had anything to do with the Alamo?"

"If this is the same unsub, then it's possible his home base is the museum," Hotch said.

"But there's a strong possibility that the unsub is a _she_," Reid cut in, then filling the team in about the caretaking arrangement with Daughters of the Republic of Texas.

"A female unsub on a killing spree against Mexicans because of a battle that happened, what, a hundred seventy years ago?" Morgan said. "I don't buy it."

Gideon shrugged, slouching back in his chair. "It's usually best to go by the statistics, which would definitely rule against a female unsub—on the surface it doesn't seem personal enough for most female unsubs—but we've all learned that it's best not to rule anything out completely. Garcia, did you run that search?"

"I did indeed. My super secret, super sexy, fast-typin' fingers got me into a list of all the soldiers who fought at the Battle of the Alamo. I did a bit of genealogical research on the three victims and they were all descendants of soldiers on the Mexican side of the battle."

"So the caretaker—" Reid said, pausing when Hotch gave him a corrective glance "—or a man close to one of the caretakers—say, her husband—gets access to this list of soldiers and finds any descendants he or she can, which you can do by yourself online. No offense, Garcia."

"Starting with the ones in the area," Hotch said, continuing Reid's train of thought. "That's the easiest. And that signifies that the unsub isn't experienced, or doesn't care if he or she is caught eventually, otherwise why kill so close to home? Garcia, we need a list of DRT members, starting with the ones in this area. At the top of that list we need members with twenty-four-hour access to the museum grounds."

"I can have that to you in five minutes."

"Make it three. How long will it take you to find the rest of the living descendants?"

"Well, there were twenty-four hundred fighting on the Mexican side. It'll take me a while."

"Then get us that list of DRT members. After that, do nothing else until you get a list of descendants," Hotch said. "And thank you, Garcia." Just as Hotch disconnected the web conference with Garcia, his phone rang. The screen told him it was his wife. "Excuse me."

"I need you to take Jack to his checkup this afternoon," Haley said before Hotch could even say hello. "Something came up."

"I can't, Haley. I told you, I'm on a case."

"You didn't tell me a thing, Aaron," she spat back.

"I did. Check your answering machine. I left you a message before we took off." He strode down the back hallway of the police station and found an empty room, shutting himself inside of it.

"I did," she said, not sounding convincing. There's nothing from you."

"Regardless, that doesn't change the fact that I can't take Jack to the doctor. I'm in San Antonio. It's just a checkup. Move it to another day if you can't take him. Last time I checked, your schedule was pretty open, since I'm still providing for you." He shut his eyes at this heat-of-the-moment one-liner.

"You know what, Aaron?"

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I didn't mean it—"

Haley hung up. Hotch shut his phone and squeezed it in his hand, his knuckles turning white.

"Everything all right?" Gideon asked, passing by just as Hotch exited the room.

"Everything's fine."

Garcia had a list of several DRT members in the area, four of whom had twenty-four hour access to the museum grounds. Hotch, Reid, Morgan, and Gideon split up, each to find one of the members. Hotch didn't let anyone call them suspects just yet. He left instructions for the police to start questioning the DRT members lower on the list and for JJ to make sure the information didn't make the evening news. He wasn't sure yet whether the killings were a cry for attention.

Gideon and Hotch both had forty minute drives in opposite directions, even with their lights on. Hotch supposed he could pick Gideon's brain along the way—not only was there still plenty of things about the case that needed figuring out, but he could use the distraction from the memory of his and Haley's brief phone call.

"Why the two different MOs?" Hotch asked Gideon once he picked up.

"If it's the same unsub, the unsub's making two different statements. With the first victim, he or she is establishing the plan for vengeance, making the most powerful statement—committing the first murder at the mission with a muzzleloader, which aren't really a weapon of choice anymore. The unsub knew the museum grounds were only good for one kill. Security would be tight after that until the case was cracked. Now the unsub's roaming around the city, using a modern handgun. The victimology fits, and even though the MOs don't seem to fit on the surface, they fit in a poetic sort of way underneath, don't you think?"

Hotch thought for a moment. "You wronged us then—hence the murder on the battle site with period-specific weaponry—and you'll continue to pay—hence spreading the killing spree into the modernized parts of the city and using modern weaponry."

"You've got to admit, it makes sense," Gideon said.

"It does. Only question is, is our unsub a man or a woman?"

"I think you're underestimating the possibility that this is a woman, Hotch. The circumstances don't scream male unsub like they usually do. All the DRT members are direct descendants of Texians, so they have the biggest grievance, and there are a lot of them."

"Reid's been saying Texians, too. Don't you mean Texans?

"No, Hotch. It's Texians. Go back to the third grade. And don't underestimate the power of a crazy Texan woman."

"Wait, I thought it was Texian."

"One's a modern-day term, one's defunct. Seriously, Hotch," Gideon said with a soft chuckle.

"Learn something new every day. Hang on, I have another call coming in. It's Garcia. I'll call you back."

"Sir, I have a list of descendants for you," Garcia said proudly.

"Already? I thought you said it'd take a while?" Hotch asked in bemusement.

"A while in Penelope Garcia time, Hotch. That's not very long at all. I faxed the list to the PD. I have a couple of questions, though."

"Sure."

"How on earth did the unsub convince the first victim to come into the museum grounds in the middle of the night?"

"Need I remind you about the many uses of rope, duct tape, and car trunks?" Hotch asked.

"Touché. But how would one woman overpower a man? He wasn't small."

"She could have had help tying him up. We'll find out sooner or later."

"What about the car thing, though? This is a national monument or something, isn't it? No surveillance cameras?"

"The security cameras didn't see any cars, just the victim being threatened into place. But not every part of the grounds are covered by the cameras. Surely a caretaker would have access to that kind of information."

"Right. And this is why I sit behind the computer and do what you tell me to instead of think like a bad guy."

"And that's why we need you, Garcia," Hotch said with a grin.

"One more question."

"Shoot."

"I wanted to ask before, but Morgan didn't look happy about it. Why in the name of all things holy are you all wearing cowboy hats?"

**Quantico, VA**

Hotch rarely went straight home after a case, even when the team got home in the middle of the night. His team members had looked completely worn when the jet landed, and today it had done so in the middle of the day, so he had sent them home. Even JJ, the busiest on the team second only to him, had been ordered to leave.

But Hotch could never resist the call of the work that awaited him on his own desk; avoiding getting home to an answering machine bound to be full of passive aggressive messages from Haley was admittedly a bonus.

When he entered his office, it was to the sight of a slim brunette seated on his small couch. Her face was turned toward the window to the outside. "Excuse me. Can I help you?" he asked, brow furrowed at seeing a stranger waiting in his office.

But she wasn't a stranger. "Hi," Emily said sheepishly, neglecting to address Hotch formally as she turned to face him.

Hotch's legs almost went limp. He had to bring his briefcase to the front of him so he could clutch it with his other hand. "Emily."

She smiled, but the happiness was far from genuine. Of course she had missed him. Every time he crossed her mind, she regretted how she'd left him. But the idea of running into him again had never taken the form of them working together, of her reporting to him. "Hi," she said again, mentally smacking herself directly afterward for repeating herself and certainly sounding foolish.

"It's…nice to see you again," he lied right through his teeth. "It's been a long time. What brings you by? How did you even know where I was?"

"Because I'm joining your team."

Emily's words echoed in Hotch's ears, rendering him deaf to the rest of what she said. "I didn't even know you were unit chief until I came in yesterday to meet you. Chief Strauss mentioned you by name, which my papers hadn't done, and said she'd call me about coming in to meet you when you got back from San Antonio."

"Ah," he managed.

"Is the rest of the team here?"

"No," Hotch said, taking his time circling around his desk so that he could spend more time with an excuse not to make eye contact with Emily. "I sent them home. We were up all night."

"At a line dancing bar?" she couldn't help but ask, eying Hotch's attire. She mentally reminded herself that they hadn't known each other for over a decade; she couldn't hop right back into their old ways of interacting with one another, especially if he was her superior now.

Hotch was glad he'd ditched the cowboy hat at the close of the investigation. Morgan had been throwing jabs at him all day for the idea. "Don't ask," he said.

Once he was seated, Hotch had no choice but to look at Emily again. She looked like she hadn't aged a day since he'd told her he loved her, asked her to move to Seattle with him. Since she'd rejected him. Since she'd left his heart shattered on the floor. At the thought of his loss, he unconsciously began to toy with the wedding ring he still hadn't convinced himself to go without. Emily's eyes flashed to his hand and he saw her lips part in surprise.

"You got married?" Emily marveled, trying not to sound disappointed or disbelieving, just happy for him. To say it was a challenge would be understating things.

"About six years ago. Yes. But we're, uh, going through a divorce right now."

_Am I a terrible person because that made me feel better?_ Emily wondered. Not that she thought she and Hotch had a shot in hell anymore, anyway. But her immediate interpretation of his divorce was that he still hadn't found someone like her. Someone that made him weak. Vulnerable. The thought that she even crossed Hotch's mind on any sort of regular basis, she knew, was preposterous. But the idea that maybe she had even somewhat ruined him for other women was appealing. She made a note to look at herself in the mirror when she got home and ask herself how much of a vindictive bitch she was. And vindictive without reason—what had he done to her?

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said quietly. "Do you have any children?"

"A son. Thirteen months old." Hotch and Emily hadn't spoken for thirteen years and they were already sharing details of their personal lives instead of avoiding the topic completely. He supposed they had no choice but to get reacquainted right away, since she would be working for him. Still, it felt disconcerting. He decided he could make it a little less uncomfortable for him by turning the tables. "What about you? Married? Kids?"

Emily half-grinned and held up her left hand. "Nope, it's just me."

"Great. I didn't mean—I'm sorry. This is—"

"Weird?" Emily offered.

"You could say that," Hotch said flatly. Now that he had an excuse to let go of what steady demeanor he'd managed to muster up, he let the visions of Emily, as he'd remembered her, flash in front of his mind's eye. Reliving the sexual encounters would have to wait for another time and place. But thinking of the months they'd spent attached at the hip—people-watching, sneaking a handhold or a kiss here and there, getting into trouble—seemed harmless. Once he skipped over the steamier memories, he replayed their final conversation. His profession of his love for her (which, though it had been in the heat of the moment, had been sincere). Her revealing that she'd lied and had plans in D.C. after all. Her insisting on reminding him that she wasn't joining the Bureau because of him, and that she would never give up her career for a man. She had figuratively castrated him at that moment in time. She'd taken every ounce of power and control away from him when she'd walked out that door. And now here she was, a new recruit to his well-groomed but one-member-short team, joining without his permission. He had to remind himself that that was no fault of her own—just another attempt by Strauss to throw him for a loop, drive him even more crazy. _Enough thinking. _"I'll have to talk to Chief Strauss today about the transfer. I imagine I don't have a choice either way, but just to clarify things."

Emily wanted to ask if Hotch meant he didn't want her there, but that wouldn't be fair. If he had showed up unexpectedly, unannounced, like she had—interrupting and probably ruining his workday—she didn't think she'd be too pleased, either. "Of course," she said.

"That is, assuming, you still want to work in the unit."

"Oh-ho-ho," Emily laughed, her attitude changing in the blink of an eye. She was fine with his unease. She understood it. But if Hotch thought he could get rid of her just like that, he had another thing coming. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

"What? There's obviously some tension, to say the least."

"So I should give up my job because of you?"

"_This_ is starting to sound familiar," Hotch said with light remorse.

"It should. Know this, Hotch. I've had my eye on this unit for years, and if I somehow lose my assignment, there had better be no reason for me to believe that you had anything to do with that decision."

"Not that I really want to get into this now, but shouldn't _I_ have the vendetta? If I remember correctly, _I_ watched _you_ walk away."

"It doesn't look like I ruined you completely, Hotch. You managed to move on. But I have no problem with you as long as you don't mess with my job. Are we clear on that?"

"I won't put up with this kind of subordination once you start. Are we clear on _that_?"

Emily ignored his attempt to adjust the slant of the conversation. "Can I get a tour?"

"You know," Hotch said, getting up and leaving the office, Emily close behind him, "the case we just wrapped was about a Daughter of the Republic of Texas who felt so scorned by what happened to her ancestors almost two hundred years ago that she felt the need to kill Mexicans who were descendants of the soldiers at the Battle of the Alamo. What do you make of that?"

"That depends. What was the trigger? Why now?"

"A friend of her last target shot her in the head before we could figure that out. Maybe it'll come to us eventually."

"Either way, I guess I don't know why you're trying to teach me a lesson about the dangers of being vengeful. Like I said, I'm not the one with the grudge."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!**


	13. Let's All Go To The Movies

**A/N: So, this is supposed to be Sci-Fi, but I am the first to admit that the genre has been pushed a bit to the side here a bit. The chapter revolves around a Sci-Fi movie and to make reading it a bit easier the movie scenes are in italics. I hope you will enjoy!**

**Genre: Sci-Fi**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

"Hey, uhm, Emily?"

The slightly stuttering voice behind her made Emily look up from her computer screen. Twisting her head she looked straight into a pair of, slightly hesitant, blue eyes hiding behind a pair of thick, out-of-style glasses.

"What's up Reid?" she said, giving him a smile.

"Uh, it's okay if I call you Emily, right?" He shifted his weight nervously from his left foot to right and back again and for a second she was really worried that he was about to ask her out. "Um, I've never asked, so if you prefer Prentiss that's okay, uh, just correct me."

"Emily is fine, Reid," Emily smiled, however a little more reservedly, at him, "You wanted to ask me something?"

"Uh, yeah." He smiled awkwardly back, her calm demeanor obviously putting him more at ease. "The rest of the team is going out to the movies later tonight and I just wanted to ask if you'd like to tag along?"

"The whole team's going?" Emily said, one eyebrow sliding up in question. At the thought of spending time with the entire team, with all that that entailed made her heart beat a little faster. She swallowed thickly, hoping it would slow her pulse down.

"Yeah," Reid said, his smile growing wider, "well, not Gideon, but he never comes along when we go out. He says he'd rather read a book. For once though I've managed to convince Hotch to go out, he usually says no and never really gives any reason as to why but, I dunno, he's coming with us tonight." Reid rambled, the words spilling from his lips, apparently oblivious to the frown pinching Emily's brow together. Emily didn't mind his little speech though, it gave her a moment to herself to take a few deep breaths and collect herself. "Anyway," Reid continued, snapping Emily's focus back onto him, "you really should come with us, I've chosen the film we're going to see and it will be great."

"What movie?" Emily said, surprising herself with how calm her voice sounded.

"Oh, it's this new sci-fi movie that's supposed to be really good. It's a love story set in the future. It's about a man and a woman who meet when they are teenagers and they fall in love, then they are forced to live separate for a number of years and when they finally meet again she has been replaced by a robot who can't reciprocate his feelings no matter how hard he tries. I hear it has a happy ending though and I think it'll have sufficient amounts of romance, action and faulty science references to please everyone." He looked down at her, towering over her as she was still sitting down, and gave her such a hopeful smile that she just couldn't say no.

"That actually sounds like a lot of fun, Reid," Emily said, "I guess I could skip on sitting home alone and eating old take out just this one night."

Reid's eyebrows knitted tightly together and sank in deep confusion. "I…uhm…I," he sputtered, grasping for something to say.

"That was a joke Reid," Emily laughed, "I'd love to tag along. Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course, Emily," Reid said, letting go of a small sigh of relief, "It wouldn't be as much fun if you weren't there. Okay, I will see you in maybe half an hour. Garcia wants my help with something." With a small, awkward, wave he started walking from the bullpen and out through the glass doors his lanky frame making even such a simple task look awkward and prompting Emily to chuckle to herself.

She smiled as she watched him disappear round a corner. She had been so nervous starting a new job where it was so widely known that the chemistry between the team members was almost as important as skill and experience. What if everyone had disliked her? What if they had thought that she didn't belong in their tight-knit unit? Those fears had only grown when she'd realized that Hotch was her supervisor. He did not like her at all and she very well knew it. He took every opportunity possible to show her by second guessing her and rarely saying more than a few words at a time to her. She knew she had hurt him all those years ago but she never thought that he would hold onto a grudge with such fierceness.

But the rest of the team was beginning to warm up to her after the initial disruption that was a new member. She definitely wasn't about to let Aaron Hotchner stand in her way of growing closer to them and becoming their friend. She didn't think the awkward silence that existed between them at work would be much different to the one that would linger between them at a movie theater.

* * *

Hotch watched Reid talk, somewhat awkwardly it seemed, with Emily and he could tell from the smile on her face and the slight bob of her head that the answer he had got was a positive one. Emily would apparently be accompanying them to the movies later that night. And why wouldn't she? The rest of the team seemed to really like her. They had accepted her as a valued member almost immediately. And though he could tell that she was still felt a bit like an outsider he saw that she wasn't.

In fact he was the only one still on the fence about her. She was a good agent, of course he knew that, but he still definitely had his reasons to be wary. He did not approve of the way Strauss had gone over his head when hiring her. He blamed Emily a bit for that too; she should have known something was not right when she wasn't told who her unit chief would be until her very first day on the unit. If he looked a little deeper inside himself it was obvious that the fact that seeing her face every day reminded him of every little piece she had smashed his heart into and that that was making him more bitter by the minute. So he had kept his distance.

Now though he had to sit through a two hour long movie with her. Granted the rest of the team, minus Gideon, would be there as well, but it was still two hours in close proximity to the one person he just didn't seem to be able to be in the same room as. He sighed and closed his briefcase. Walking over to the window overlooking the bullpen, he peeked through the blinds and waited till he saw Emily pick up her things and leave.

* * *

"This row is perfect," Reid said, turned to Morgan, as Emily squeezed by them both, "It's the best distance from the screen and satisfactorily close to the emergency exits. You know rigorous research have shown that sitting –"

Emily shook her head with mirth as she heard Morgan cut Reid off and say something about him needing the emergency exit sooner rather than later if he didn't shut up. She looked down at the last empty seat as she passed JJ and her throat went dry as she stumbled. "Oh," she said, looking down dumbfounded, "Ah, it's…it's okay if I sit here, right?"

Hotch looked up, his brow pinched together in an uncomfortable knot. "It's the last free seat, I think, Prentiss," he said and he couldn't help but notice her cringe at the use of her last name, "it's here or the floor."

She laughed a little as she took her seat, but there was no humor in her voice and he could clearly see that it didn't reach her eyes. He turned, returning his attention to the ridiculously loud commercials running on the large screen. He could feel Emily next to him, he felt her knee bump against his so he pulled his legs closer together and he felt her discreet perfume tickle his nose so for a second he held his breath.

When he glanced to his left, he could see that she had turned her attention and her body towards JJ and was talking with her in a low, hushed tone. He drew in a breath but the little bit of her perfume that had lingered in the air had been replaced with the smell of popcorn and soda.

A minute later as the lights were dimmed, shrouding the large room in darkness, he could feel her shifting in her seat. For a second a fleeting impulse, coming from somewhere in the very back of his mind, told him to wrap his arm around her shoulders and the feeling made him shudder. However before he could act on it the memory of her ripping him to pieces stamped the impulse down and instead he crossed his arms tightly over his own chest.

Leaning back in his seat that felt too small and very uncomfortable as his back tensed, he hoped that the mindless entertainment of the film would be enough to distract him. Ignoring all thought of the woman next to him, he focused every ounce of attention on the two people appearing on the large screen.

Unfortunately not even thirty minutes into the movie he was painfully aware of the fact that there would be no forgetting and no pushing lingering emotions down deep into some black hole inside him that night. The story that was playing out before him seemed so excruciatingly familiar. He had watched as the young, very beautiful, woman with dark hair and even darker eyes met the young handsome man and how they fell in love within an instant. He managed to ignore the implausible futuristic setting, where everything was metallic and bare, even though he could hear Reid harrumphing in the background, and focused on the obvious love story.

As the minutes and the story ticked by, he felt like reality and fiction was starting to bleed together more and more and more until he felt like it was his story that was being put on show on the giant screen for the world to see. He closed his eyes and all he could see was himself, waiting for that girl he knew wouldn't come.

_On the screen the dark haired man stood by himself leaning against a tall building, surrounded by that cold, steely environment in which the story took place. He looked to his left and to his right, searching for that familiar face but all he could see was a jumble of people and machines littering the streets. The sky was dark, the sun had stopped shining many years ago as well as all of the stars, and when he looked up he couldn't see where the buildings ended. Only bridges floating in the air and the odd hovercraft sweeping through it could be seen in the dim light._

_He shuddered and sank to the ground when he finally realized that she wasn't coming. Three months of pure bliss was finally ending and he was alone on the cold hard ground with strangers walking so close that they were nearly stepping on him. Then he felt it; the long, steel arms slithering around his torso and gripping his shoulders, heaving him up into the air and tossing him around. He knew exactly what was happening and he allowed himself to be removed from the ground with not so much as a word of protest. _

_He had seen people scream and yell as they were being pulled away but he felt too weak to fight it. When you had nothing left in your life then you were no longer considered a valued member of society by the government and you were removed – sent away until you could prove yourself worthy of living in the city again. Closing his eyes, he let himself be swept away from his home._

Hotch was startled when he felt moisture sting in his eyes. Granted he hadn't been pulled away from the life he knew by steel claws, he had been reassigned, but the outcome had essentially been the same. He had been, more or less, forced to leave the town he knew the best, the town where he had his life and in the end it had cost him at the screen, he delved back into the story and let it serve almost as a way to work through the emotions that had accumulated over the last ten years.

He watched the young man being shipped off to a work camp. He watched him work hard he nearly went crazy – though never forgetting the woman he loved – until finally he was let back to the city.

_He wandered down street after street, looking for that familiar face. Nothing seemed to be like it used to, the buildings were taller, the people seemed colder and the sky seemed even darker than before. After several years outside the city he knew that some people that were taken away never came back. They were replaced with artificial versions of themselves, robots that had no emotions and could feel no heartbreak and would thus never become useless in the all-seeing eye of the government. He felt empty inside as he aimlessly wandered the streets. The years in the work camp had destroyed most of his spirit. He felt like he was only half a man. _

Hotch watched with rapt attention. How in the world had Reid managed to select a movie that seemed like it was his life story being told? He shifted in his seat. He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Was Emily thinking the same things as he was? Did she also see some of the parallels? Trying to move his hand as discreetly as possible he swiped at the little tear that had managed to escape his eye as he watched the young man on the screen finally catch a glimpse of the girl he loved.

_He ran as fast as he could. His feet hit the pavement hard as he weaved and bobbed between people – real and fake. He could feel the difference when he touched them. The ones that hadn't been replaced for good, the ones that were still human and had blood running through their veins were warm to his touch as he maneuvered by them. The ones that had been replaced with machines were cold and hard – like everything else around them._

_When he finally caught up with her she stopped abruptly as he yelled her name. She turned and looked at him with empty eyes. _

"_You're here," he said, reaching out tentatively to run his fingers over her cheek but she backed away and his heart cried._

"_I am," she answered and he flinched at the distant tone in her voice that made it sound just as harsh as their bare surroundings._

_He wanted to take her in his arms but her tense posture and the way her eyes looked at him with no warmth and no feelings held him back. This had to be the same girl that he had known and loved with his entire heart ten years ago. She looked almost exactly the same as the last day he had seen her. He had never learned why she had left him, one day she had disappeared and then he had been pulled from the city and sent away._

_But here she was. Standing in front of him again, ten years after the day he had thought he had lost her forever. Tentatively he reached out a hand again and this time she let him run his fingers along her bare arm. She was cold and the skin of her arm felt hard. There was no pink flush creeping over it and no goose bumps erupting where his fingers danced. His heart sank into his stomach. She was cold and she was hard, like everyone else who had been replaced._

"_Why did you leave me?" he choked out, hoping that her answer would prove that she was still herself and not a soulless machine. He couldn't believe that he was fighting to hold back tears but she was just standing there looking at him with her empty, almost metallic, eyes and he couldn't keep them at bay._

"_I didn't have a choice," she said, and he was so desperately hoping to hear a hint of his own conflicting emotions in her that her monotone voice was like a knife cutting through his flesh and he sat down on the ground in defeat._

Hotch shook his head and gripped his forehead. Pinching his eyes closed and opening them again he slowly came to from the daze the familiar storyline had put him in. Distinct lines between his life and the life happening on the screen were put back in their place. He tried to watch the tall, dark haired man talk to the almost unresponsive woman, but his focus was lost. All he could think of was the dark haired woman sitting next to him.

* * *

"What did you think, Emily?" Reid said, as he jogged a few steps to catch up with her.

"It was good," Emily said. "Pretty sad though," she continued. She wouldn't tell him how uncomfortably close to home it had hit a few times. She would never go as far as to think of herself as some unfeeling machine, like the woman in the movie had been, but she knew how badly she had hurt Hotch and maybe that was the way he thought of her now. The protagonist had fallen in love with her all over again and for all intents and purposes it had ended happily but there had been no way of telling whether she was the real girl or the robot version of her. And that was a little how she felt. Had she changed so much over the years that there was no chance for her and Hotch or would he still be able to love her?

"You didn't like the ending?" Reid said, confused, "I thought it was a happy, romantic ending. They fell back in love and everyone was happy."

"I guess," Emily said, slowly. She didn't say anything else, instead her mind grew busy running mile after mile around the same man.

**A/N: Like I said in the first A/N, there wasn't that much Sci-Fi in this chapter. Hopefully you liked it anyway. Please leave a review if you have the time.**


	14. First Case

**A/N: Remember, Sussi and I have messed with the Hotch/Haley/Jack timeline. Hotch and Haley get divorced when Jack is around 15 months old, give or take, and Foyet is not a part of this universe, so Haley doesn't die.  
**

**Genre: Mystery**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

* * *

"Nice," Emily muttered as she boarded the BAU jet for the very first time and got an eyeful of its luxurious—albeit a little cramped—interior.

"One of the few perks," Morgan said as he stepped on behind her. "Still doesn't make up for interrupting a date, though."

Emily smirked and found herself a seat, hoping she wasn't messing up some unspoken seating arrangement. While she and Morgan waited for the rest of the team, she thought about the delicious dinner she had managed to make herself and had to throw away. Her stomach grumbled, thankfully not loud enough for anyone to hear.

"Sorry, everyone," Hotch said as he boarded a few minutes later, JJ behind him. "Couldn't wait."

"Fifth missing child in two weeks in Brentwood, Tennessee, outside of Nashville," JJ said, a stack of case files in her hand. She began to distribute them right way. "It's a pretty small town, a little over thirty-five thousand people, and only about six thousand families. As you can imagine, the community and its police force is panicking. The last child went missing eighteen hours ago. So we've got six hours before we've got five missings we'll probably never find alive," she said grimly. "Sorry," she added immediately. "Rough day."

Emily sat by and let the rest of the team run the show. While she believed she had the appropriate skill set for the job, she wanted to sense the rest of the team's rhythm before she jumped in.

"Do we know where they were abducted?" Gideon asked, sitting across from Emily.

"All at playgrounds," Hotch said, taking the seat next to Gideon, "but never the same one, never the same time of day or day of the week. The only obvious commonality about the abduction sites is that they're playgrounds."

"How empty have the playgrounds been the last few days with these abductions going on?" Reid asked. He sat next to Emily and dropped his leather messenger bag on the floor.

"Obviously not empty enough if children are still going missing," JJ said. "We told local authorities to make sure they have a presence at every playground in town. When we get there, I'll be holding a press conference right away. It'll hurt our chances of finding the unsub, but we need to keep kids at home or with an adult at the very least. And then we'll have to find him the hard way."

"There's an easy way?" Morgan cracked.

"Prentiss? Thoughts?" Hotch asked, clearly trying to make her feel welcome, but instead putting her on the spot. Her mouth was dry when she went to speak, hoping she could utter something intelligent.

"I…I guess, looking at the victims, they're all eight-year-old white girls, so we might have a preferential offender. Do we have a list of registered sex offenders?"

"You don't, but I do." Garcia's image had popped up on the laptop next to Emily when she wasn't looking. Her voice made Emily pop up from her seat, eliciting laughter from Reid, JJ, and Morgan.

"Reid, when we get there, I want you to work up a geographical profile using the abduction sites, then use that to narrow down the list of sex offenders," Hotch said.

"How many sex offenders can there _be_ in such a small community?" Emily asked.

"You'd be surprised and disgusted," Garcia answered.

Hotch looked at Emily. "You and I will head to the most recent abduction site. Gideon and Morgan, start at the first. We'll meet in the middle. In the meantime, study up."

—

"That's one fast jet," Emily said once she and Hotch were in an unmarked police cruiser and on their way to the most recent abduction site.

"Made me hate flying commercially even more than I already did," Hotch said lightly. "I hope you don't mind working with me to start out. I thought a familiar face might be helpful. Let me know if it's not."

Emily licked her lips. "It's fine. Thanks."

"Did you notice anything else linking all five victims?" Hotch asked, apparently done with pleasantries for now.

"They were all wearing red or pink dresses," Emily said.

"Good."

"So you're going to quiz me?"

"Until you learn to speak up."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "But _you_ knew."

Hotch stopped at a red light, looked both ways, saw no traffic, and crossed through it. "_You_ didn't know that I knew. We're a team. We bounce ideas off each other constantly. It's how we solve these cases. Anything else you're hiding?"

Blushing from her mistake, Emily sighed and thought. "Uhh…all blonde."

"Again, why not say that on the jet?"

"It's kind of obvious, isn't it?"

"Half the time it's the obvious stuff that makes everything fall into place. Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Good. From now on, if a thought crosses your mind, run it by somebody. Maybe it won't make a difference to you, but it could be the missing puzzle piece. You never know unless you say it."

"Will do."

"You seem to be getting along with the rest of the team well enough. Good fit?"

"Yeah. Still trying to find where I fit in with all of the back-and-forths but I'm sure it'll come to me eventually."

"It will." Hotch's cell phone rang in his pocket. "Excuse me." He picked up, not saying hello, merely listening for a few moments. "Okay. I'll get to it when I can," he said plainly, hanging up.

"Everything okay?" Emily asked.

"Fine," Hotch replied.

"I just thought of something," Emily said.

"What?"

"What if…the unsub isn't a sex offender? Maybe he's not even interested in _harming_ these girls at all. What if he's trying to replace someone? A daughter, maybe?"

Hotch's eyes narrowed and he cast Emily a sidelong glance. "That's definitely a possibility. Keep talking."

"Well, if that's his intention, then I hate to think of what he's doing with the girls once he finds they don't meet his needs."

"If you were the unsub, what would you do with them?"

Emily took the deepest of breaths and shook her head. "I can't think like that."

"You have to. That's our job."

"And that's why you hardly smile anymore, isn't it?" Emily said before thinking.

"I wouldn't say that's entirely untrue."

—

"Find anything interesting at the first two playgrounds?" Hotch asked Morgan and Gideon when they all met at the third, under a streetlamp.

"Pretty much identical to this one," Morgan said. "Like the town bought five sets of the same equipment and put them throughout town."

"Ours were the same," Hotch said. "Prentiss, tell them what your thoughts were."

"I—" Emily's eyes widened at the sight of Gideon, who turned away as soon as Hotch had given her the floor. Morgan was more attentive, but Gideon started to walk away. By far, Gideon was the most enigmatic member of the team. Emily had everyone else figured out for the most part, but not him. "I, uh, was thinking this could have nothing to do with sexual assault, or even harming the victims. The unsub might be trying to replace someone, like a daughter."

"That makes sense, too," Morgan agreed. "So we could be looking at someone who lost a daughter, either when she died, or when she was taken away from him. His ex-wife, social services, for whatever reason."

Hotch nodded. "We already called Garcia and had her work with Reid to look at those criteria as well."

"Both theories are equally plausible," Gideon said, squinting in the dark, "but to build a proper profile, we need to know which it is."

"Let's build two separate profiles for now," Hotch instructed.

"Why would a preferential offender strike so many times in a row, in such a short period of time, in such a small community?" Emily asked. She instantly had Hotch's and Morgan's eyes on her and her throat went dry again. "If you're preferential and your needs are so insatiable, go to a larger community. Go to Nashville. It's not far. The unsub could be highly sociopathic and thinks he's above the law, or maybe he doesn't even _understand_ what he's doing, and that would make the size of the community unimportant to him. But at least Nashville would offer up more potential targets, and they'd be easier to abduct. That right there should be enough to draw a preferential offender closer."

"Good," Gideon said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "So that narrows down the sex offender profile to someone who has a specific reason to stay here. Maybe he's mentally challenged, lives with someone else, can't drive himself to a larger community to do the deed, or wouldn't have the space there to do it. Or he's just fine on his own, but has strong ties to the area."

"And if we're not dealing with a sex crime at all?" Hotch asked. "Let's work on a second profile. The unsub's trying to replace a lost daughter. Thoughts?"

"Then the trigger is either a recent loss, or there was an anniversary recently," Morgan said. "We need to look at a trigger for the other profile, too."

"Second one makes more sense," Gideon said. "Or at least it's more likely. In small towns like this, the neighborhoods are tight knit. Everyone knows everyone's business."

Morgan piped in. "And since you can look up sex offenders on public registries, everyone, especially parents, probably knows all the neighborhood creeps, keeps a close eye on them. If we're looking at a father looking for a replacement for a daughter, that kind of guy isn't as likely to be living under everyone else's watch. And if he lost his daughter here, or maybe a sister a long time ago, then that's why he'd need to stay here."

"Prentiss?" Hotch said. "Anything else to add? You look like you have something to say.

"Nothing. I, uh, just really have a hunch that we're not looking at a sex crime here."

"Let's get back to the police station. Prentiss and I can work on one profile, you two on the other," he said to Morgan and Gideon. "Good work," he added to Emily, who blushed and gazed at the ground on her way back to her and Hotch's cruiser.

The drive back was quiet until Hotch's phone rang again.

"Yeah," he said after sighing. "I told you, I'm busy. I will get to it…Yes, I promise." He flipped his phone closed rather loudly and slid it back into his pocket.

Emily was tempted to ask again if everything was all right, but if Hotch hadn't wanted to share that information before, he probably wouldn't now, either, so she minded her own business.

"Hotch, I think we might have it," Reid said, his hand shaking as he handed Hotch a sheet fresh off the fax machine. Hotch and Emily had just gotten back and Gideon and Morgan were on their tails. The vast majority of the police force was out patrolling the streets, even though it was the middle of the night, not a time for children to be out. "When Garcia and I looked at Emily's criteria, we found divorce records for Tina and Stuart Montgomery. They split one year and two weeks ago. Tina got full custody of their daughter, Brittany, eight years old, because Stuart had been in and out of mental institutions for severe bipolar disorder and signs of schizophrenia."

"Is Brittany still alive?" Hotch asked.

Reid nodded. "And well. She and her mother moved to Miami after the divorce."

"Do we have an address on the ex-husband?" Gideon asked.

"Yup." Reid pointed to the fax.

—

Hotch kicked his way in through the front door of a two-story brick home whose curb appeal left something to be desired when compared to that of its neighbors, at least from what they could see right now. They started clearing rooms, hearing Gideon and Morgan doing the same from the back of the house. She followed Hotch upstairs while Gideon and Morgan took to the basement steps. Neither she nor Hotch had cleared a single room before they heard a gunshot downstairs.

"It's okay," Gideon was saying to one of five little girls poorly tied and duct taped to a kitchen chair. Emily, out of breath from running, recognized her as the most recent victim, a little girl named Melissa. Morgan was crouched down over a man's body, his fingers resting on the carotid to feel for a pulse.

"He came at me with a forty-five," Morgan explained. "He's gone."

Hotch nodded and got to work releasing the other pale, teary-eyed girls with Emily and Gideon while Morgan contacted the police station.

"It's okay, sweetie," Emily said to the first victim, Taylor. "My name is Emily and I'm here to help you. You're okay now, I promise." As soon as the girl was freed from her restraints, she clutched onto Emily's waist. Not even sure how much an eight-year-old weighed, Emily gave it a shot and hoisted the girl up into her arms. She felt Hotch's eyes on her as she somewhat struggled up the stairs. "Are you hurt at all?" The little girl shook her head. "Just hungry and thirsty?" Emily asked, figuring that if the first victim was still alive, the unsub had probably been giving them food and water. Taylor nodded. "Okay, we're gonna go to the police station now. Your mommy and daddy will be waiting for you. And we can get you some clean clothes," she noted when she saw the pink dress Taylor still wore.

—

Emily watched with a smile as ten parents were reunited with their daughters.

"Their stories were all the same," Hotch said, walking up behind her. "He hardly laid a hand on them except to restrain them. He had them auditioning to see who would be the best replacement. Singing Brittany's favorite song, telling him they loved him…"

Emily's eyebrows slanted severely as she turned to face Hotch, but her expression softened almost immediately. "I guess that's the best we could've hoped for. Thank God they're okay.'

"You did excellent work tonight."

Emily's breath caught in her throat, so she just grinned and gave an appreciative nod.

"We didn't even have to get our go-bags out," Hotch noted.

"That's just as well, because I'm pretty sure I forgot to pack clean socks and my makeup," Emily said with a soft chuckle. Hotch laughed, too, and was about to walk away when Emily spoke again. "Has anyone gotten in touch with Ms. Montgomery?"

"JJ just got off the phone with her. Why?"

"Just wondering what Brittany was wearing the last time her father saw her."

Hotch gave Emily a dry look. "I already said you did excellent work. I'm pretty sure we know the answer to your question. I'm sure you were right."

"I wasn't fishing, I swear," Emily said, smiling as Hotch left her alone.

They were back on the jet, headed back to Quantico, a few hours later, just as the sun was making its way up. None of the team members was very interested in the sunrise, though. Everyone but Hotch found a place to lie down. As far as Emily could tell, she was the only one who hadn't succeeded in finding sleep. She gave up and joined Hotch at a table.

"Okay, seriously, is everything okay?" Emily asked. Hotch sat back, his hands clasped in his lap and a manila folder in front of him. "You got another one of those phone calls."

Hotch opened up the folder and showed Emily the cover sheet of his divorce papers. "Haley was getting impatient," he explained quietly.

"Calling you three times in the middle of the night? I guess so," Emily said.

"It's all done and over with now, though. They just need to be dropped off." He didn't look disappointed when he glanced up at Emily. Anything but, really. She knew it was inappropriate to think it, but she wondered if she was imagining the trace of desire she saw in Hotch's eyes.

"Can I ask you something?" Emily asked. Hotch waited for her to do so. "Does everyone else know that…we knew each other before?"

Hotch shook his head. "Why? Do you think they should?"

"No. I was kind of hoping for that answer."

Hotch's eyes glinted. "I didn't think it was pertinent."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course."

"Does Gideon hate me?"

Hotch had to close his mouth when he started laughing to keep from waking anyone up. "No. He's like that with everyone."

"Ah. Will it ever get…less unnerving?"

"I wouldn't count on it. He still scares me sometimes."

**A/N: Please leave a review!**


	15. That Which Isn't Supposed to Happen

**Warning: The genre is tragedy so there will be some deaths. No main characters will die though.**

**I'd say 'please enjoy' but given the genre maybe that's the wrong thing to say…**

* * *

**Genre: Tragedy**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

Emily closed the folder she had been idly reading through the last few minutes and placed it back on top of the "to do" pile. Despite the fact that she had been a part of the BAU for several weeks her body still hadn't adjusted to the crazy hours and if she didn't get the gallon of coffee that she needed the words started to blur together.

Sweeping her eyes across the length of the mezzanine, she didn't really dare to stop at Hotch's closed door or at the window where the blinds were still pulled halfway shut, and let her eyes wander to Gideon's door. As her eyes met the door it opened and for a brief moment her eyes locked with the older man's gaze. Feeling like a fool, she looked away, all of a sudden very interested in her stapler. For fear of things becoming even more tense than they already were between them, she had refrained from asking Hotch again whether he thought Gideon liked her or not. She wasn't sure of anything but it still felt like she had some way to go before she had proven herself to him. Sometimes it even felt like she hadn't earned Hotch's trust completely yet either.

She wasn't sure which bothered her the most. She desperately wanted the approval of one of the most brilliant profilers ever – one of the founding fathers of the BAU – and to earn his respect would prove to everyone that she was as capable of doing this job as anyone else on the team. At the same time she knew that Hotch's trust issues with her ran so much deeper and she could sometimes feel a gnawing sensation deep in her gut when she thought of how they had left things so many years ago.

Needing something to clear her mind, she got up, skillfully avoiding catching Gideon's eyes again, and walked over to the small kitchenette for her second cup of coffee for the morning. Standing with her back to the bullpen as she poured a packet of Splenda into her coffee cup, she could hear heels clicking rapidly against the floor. Spinning around, so fast so that some of the coffee splashed over the rim of the cup, she saw JJ sprint up the staircase and knock once on Hotch's door before entering.

As she stood absentmindedly stirring her coffee while watching Hotch's door with rapt attention she noticed Reid coming up next to her through the corner of her eye. "What do you think it is?" she said, her eyes not leaving the closed door.

"I don't know," Reid said, drumming his long fingers against the cup he was holding on to, "but I highly doubt it's anything good."

Emily just nodded, closing her eyes tightly and opening them again to see Hotch and JJ leave his office wearing matching grim expressions. Watching Hotch steady himself against the railing Emily could have sworn she saw panic flicker across his eyes but just as quickly as it was there, it was gone again, and he was barking orders.

"Reid! Prentiss! Morgan!" he called, "Conference room, now!"

"What've we got?" Morgan said, as he entered the conference room and took a seat next to Gideon, closely followed by Emily and Reid sitting down next to each other.

"A hostage situation," Hotch said, "The unsub took an entire pediatrician's office; doctor, nurse, children and their parents, hostage in McLean about thirty minutes ago. All information we have is from the nurse who managed to dial 911, but the call lasted less than a minute and all they could really get from her was that the unsub is male, Caucasian, possibly in his thirties and heavily armed, then the line went dead. All security cams have been disabled, so for now we have no way of knowing how many there are in the hostage."

"He hasn't made any kind of demand?" Morgan said, looking from Hotch to JJ.

"No," Hotch said, "police at the scene have been proceeding with caution and have been waiting for the unsub to make contact. They want us there as soon as possible to make up a profile and to handle negotiations." With that he started walking towards the door, followed closely by Gideon, talking over his shoulder as he did so; "Morgan, Prentiss you're with us. JJ, Garcia, Reid stay here and start working on a profile, see if you can figure out who are unsub is. We'll call as soon as we know anything else."

Following Hotch and Gideon at a light run, Emily noticed the tension in Hotch's shoulders as he walked with long strides towards the elevators. She was sure that she had seen panic flash through his eyes again as he went through the case. It had startled her. He was always the immaculate professional, never showing any emotions even to cases that hit close to home, but now he seemed stressed and almost scared. She knew he didn't want anyone to notice it and she was pretty sure she was the only one who had but that was because she knew him well enough to read him like a book.

"Let's split up on two cars," Gideon said as they entered the parking garage, "Morgan, you're with me," he said, walking towards one of the SUVs.

"You're with me then Prentiss," Hotch said, a faraway look in his eyes, as he pulled the keys from his pocket. When they slipped from his fingers and landed on the concrete floor with a clash he swore loudly making Emily look up in surprise.

"Hotch, what's going on?" she said, taking a few steps towards him and picking up the keys. As she handed them back to him, she could feel his hands tremble under her fingers. "Aaron, you're shaking. Are you sick? What's going on?"

Without looking at her, his eyes focusing on some spot in the far distance, he said; "Jack. He had the sniffles yesterday. And Haley said… she said that if he didn't get better she would take him to see the doctor today. It's just the sniffles but she said she wanted to make sure…" His voice tapered off, but Emily could see the tight fists his hands had balled up into.

"Hotch, I don't… I don't understand," Emily said, as she took one more step towards him and wrapped a gentle hand around his upper arm, his suit feeling rough under her fingers. "What's going on?"

"It's Jack's pediatrician." He paused, taking a few short breaths. "The hostage situation is at Jack's pediatrician's office and Haley said that she was going to bring him there this morning if he was still having the sniffles."

"Oh, God. Oh, Aaron," Emily said, squeezing his arm. "You have to call her. Here," she guided him into the passenger seat, "I am going to drive and you are going to call her, okay?"

He nodded, fumbling with the phone, as she pulled out of the parking spot, maneuvering the large car best she could as her heart raced a million miles per minute. She watched through the corner of her eye as he pressed the phone against his ear. His raspy breaths, and her thundering heart she was sure, were all that could be heard around them. She had the sirens blaring but the sound didn't register with her.

She didn't know how many minutes had passed when Hotch ripped the phone from his ear and threw it at the backseat. "She's not answering," he said, running a hand across his face in frustration, "not her cell phone and not at home."

"Okay," Emily said slowly, keeping one eye on Hotch and the other on the road in front of her, "maybe she's out and her cell died, maybe it's on silent…" She breathed deeply, knowing how futile her excuses sounded no matter how valid they were. Hotch didn't respond. He was staring out the window and it was scaring her. They were on their way to a situation he might be the only one able to resolve**. **It sounded cold hearted in her head but she knew that no matter where Haley and Jack were there were other children that needed him. "Hotch," she said, gripping his wrist and tugging on it until he turned and looked straight at her, "I know you're in a nightmare right now but I need you to come back to me. Please don't clam up. You don't know if Haley and Jack are in there but there are other kids and their moms and dads and they need you now. I need you."

He shook his head and brought a hand to his eyes to wipe away a few stray tears. "Yes. I know. I'm fine," he said through teeth that were still clenched but he seemed to relax some, so she didn't push it. The rest of the hurried ride went by quietly and as soon as Emily pulled up next to the other SUV and a couple police cruisers, Gideon was by their side.

"What took you so long?" he said.

"We hit a bit of traffic," Emily lied seamlessly, glancing towards Hotch not sure what she would see. She let out a sigh she hoped no one heard when she saw the mask of professionalism sitting secure over Hotch's features. She knew not a person there would be able to tell that only a few minutes ago he had been on the brink of panic.

"Any developments?" Hotch said, his lips a thin line across his face, as he turned his full attention towards Gideon.

"No, nothing yet," Gideon said, as he started walking back to the front of the building, "it's an old office and he took out the only security cam they had in the waiting room so there's really no way of knowing how many people there are in the hostage. Morgan's on the phone with Garcia now to see if there's any way she can work with the one blurry screenshot the camera managed to get of him before he smashed it."

"What about their computer system?" Emily said, coming up next to them, "They must have something that Garcia can hack into and get us some information."

"Like I said," Gideon said, turning towards her with a frown marring his face, "it's an old office and the technology isn't up to date, but hopefully she can get something from it." Turning his attention back to Hotch he said; "I told them to hold off on any attempts to make contact until you arrived; you're the best negotiator we have and I think you should handle all communication…" he trailed off as he noticed the slightly distant look that had reappeared in Hotch's eyes. "Hotch?"

Hotch fought to keep the panic he could feel bubbling inside him at bay. He couldn't let it surface. Not even for the slightest second because if he let his mind wander, he could easily lose control of the situation and he could not let that happen. "Yeah, Jason," he said, giving him a curt nod, "I'll take point. It's crucial that we approach this as carefully as possible."

As he picked up his speed, walking towards where the local police had set up, he felt warm fingers wrap around his elbow and give it a squeeze. Looking over his shoulder, as discreetly as he could, his eyes met Emily's and the small smile she gave him felt reassuring and comforting. Coming up next to the detective in charge he could feel the panic die down a little more.

"Detective?" he said, gaining the older woman's attention, "I'm agent Hotchner, this is agent Prentiss. " He nodded at Emily who reached out and shook the other woman's hand. "Has he tried to make contact yet?"

"No." The detective shook her head. "We assume that he has access to the cell phone the nurse used to call 911, but we haven't tried calling it yet."

"The phone's still on," Morgan said, coming up behind them, "I had Garcia check it. They're still working on ID-ing our unsub."

"What about the hostage?" Emily said, glancing carefully at Hotch, "Do we have any more information on them? Do we even know how many they are?"

Morgan shook his head. "No, Garcia wasn't able to get into their system. She says that either it's ancient or the unsub has destroyed it somehow. I think we'll have to accept that we're going in blind here. At least until the others can find something we can use."

"You're right," Hotch said, "we can't keep waiting. We will have to tread carefully but we have to establish contact." He turned towards the detective and accepted the cell phone she handed him. "Morgan, as soon as Garcia can find anything on the unsub you let me know."

Taking a breath he looked to his right and to his left, feeling Emily's calming eyes on him the entire time, as he pressed the pre-programmed number. Waiting, he felt his breath lodge in his throat.

"Yeah?" a gruff, clearly distraught, male voice answered.

"Hello? This is agent Hotchner of the FBI, who am I speaking to?"

"That's none of your business. Leave me alone," the man on the other end said.

"Please, I'm only here to help," Hotch said, injecting as much compassion into his voice as possible, "Tell me your name and I will help you whatever way I can. That's a promise…" he trailed off hoping that the man on the other end would at least give him a first name.

"Mike," the man said dejectedly, "You can't help me. No one can. I have no need for your help. I don't want it."

"Mike," Hotch said, looking pointedly at Emily who picked up her phone and dialed Garcia. He watched as Emily took a few steps back and he could hear her hushed voice spitting information into her phone. "I know I can't force you to accept my help but I wish you would reconsider." Only a loud sigh was given as an answer and Hotch decided to switch the topic. "How are the children, Mike?" he said, "Can you tell me that?"

"They're all ill," he said and Hotch could hear every ounce of sadness in his voice, "but eventually they will get better." With a final deep sigh he hung up.

Listening to the dial tone, a very bad feeling creeping over him, Hotch hurried towards Emily and Morgan. "He hung up," he said, "I could hardly get a name out of him, I need something to work with."

"We might have him," Morgan said, "I'm putting you on speaker, Baby Girl."

"Right," Garcia's voice flitted through the air, "Michael Smith, age thirty-two, lost his seven year old son, Steven, four months ago. His son had leukemia and passed away after he caught pneumonia in the hospital just when he was going into remission. I dug a little deeper and found out that our pediatrician Dr. Swanson was Steven's pediatrician. As I continued my digging I found that a few months later Michael lost his job because he stopped showing up and then a week ago his wife filed for divorce. So pretty much every crappy thing that can happen to a person has happened to him over the last six months."

"Thank you, Garcia," Hotch said.

His voice showed no emotion but Emily could see the flash of fear shining for just a few seconds in his eyes. Standing next to him, she placed a hand discreetly on his arm, silently conveying her support as he brought the phone to his ear. They didn't have to say anything, they all knew that the man they were dealing with was had nothing to lose.

Dialing the number again, his heart racing, he waited until Michael picked up again sounding even more desperate. "What?"

Hotch let out a small sigh of temporary relief when other man's voice came through the phone. At least he still let him talk to him. "Mike, how are you?" he said.

"Why do you care?" His voice was raspier and rawer, almost as if he had been crying, and Hotch felt a new wave of doubt and desperation come over him.

"I told you I want to help you, Mike," he said, "I know what happened to your son and I know what happened to you and I am so sorry, but hurting these people – these kids – it won't bring him back."

"You don't get it. I'm not hurting them, I am helping them."

"Let me help too," Hotch said, trying to find some straw to grasp, "Let me in and I will help all of you, I promise. I will help you and I will help the children."

"I can't do that… and I can't keep wasting time talking to you. You can't help! No one can help and no one wants to help. I had to learn that the hard way and if I can do something so that some people don't have to go through what I went through – what my son went through – then I'm going to do that!"

"Mike!" Hotch knew the other man wasn't listening. He knew the phone had fallen from his hand as the sounds on the other end were muffled and finally it hit the floor with a thud breaking the connection. Turning to face the others, he didn't even get a chance to open his mouth to speak before several loud gunshots crashed through the silence.

He was sure that time stood still as the string of gunshots rang out. He couldn't feel his heart beating as he yelled his orders to the SWAT team. "Go! Go! Go!" He couldn't feel his feet hitting the ground but he knew he was moving as the small building came closer and closer. He knew that Emily was right behind him, for some reason the distinct sound her heels made against the asphalt was all he could hear.

"Hotch!" he heard her calling his name but he didn't stop. Only one thing was before his eyes - his son. He knew that he might not be able to stomach what he would be faced with inside that building but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

Tearing up the narrow staircase, his gun drawn and his heart beating harder and faster than it ever had before, he just avoided crashing into the back of one of the SWAT team members standing just outside the door.

Alerted to their presence the man turned around; "Oh, agents," he said, slowly shaking his head, "We were too late. There was nothing we could do." He trailed off, looking uncomfortably at Hotch, as Emily told him a quiet 'thank you'.

HHHHHo

Taking a step forward, the ground wobbling beneath his feet, Hotch stumbled into the small waiting room, his eyes immediately searching for his son's sandy blonde head. In the far corner he saw a little girl sprawled out on the floor with blood trickling from a wound in her forehead and dampening her chestnut hair. Next to her, with a protective arm slung over her stomach, lay a man with red marks peppered across his chest. Taking a few, shaky, steps closer Hotch noticed that though the man's eyes were open they no longer saw the world in front of him.

Not far from where the man and his daughter were, lay another little girl, her small face pressed into the bloodstained carpet and her leg in an awkward angle. Behind her, draped over a chair, was her mother, one hand stretched as if trying to touch her daughter and small red wounds covering her body.

Feeling lightheaded Hotch spun around, searching for other bodies. His vision blurred as he saw the back of the head of a blonde woman lying behind a small table. Closing the distance with a few swift steps he fell to his knees by the motionless body. As he scanned the length of the woman's body, he found a young boy, six, maybe seven, years old, clutched in her limp arms. The boy's black hair was spattered with blood and his head hung to the side.

Pushing himself off of the floor he could finally feel his heart beating again. His legs still shaking, he stood up, getting more and more aware of the other people in the room. Gideon was standing at the entrance talking to the leader of the SWAT team. Morgan was standing in the middle of the room talking into his phone. He couldn't see Emily but he could feel her. He knew she was somewhere close by.

"It's not a pretty sight in there. He emptied one clip in the doctor and nurse and then he shot himself," he heard a dark voice say. He heard Emily's soft answer and then boots clicking against the floor. He felt her slim arm wrap gently around his waist. Looking down at her he finally, for the first time in hours, let himself take a deep breath. "They're not here," he breathed so quietly that only Emily could hear him. "Jack and Haley… They… they were never here."

Without saying anything, allowing Hotch to slowly soak up the fact that his ex-wife and their son had never been in harm's way, Emily slowly lead him from the scene. Looking over her shoulder, making sure that they weren't being watched, she took him down the stairs and stopped in an empty spot in a far corner. Tightening her grip on his waist, closing her fist in the fabric of his jacket, she leaned her head against his shoulder hoping it would help calm him down at least a little. "It's okay," she whispered, "everything's okay."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review :)**


	16. Fear

**A/N: I suck I suck I suck. I know I know I know. So so so sorry for the wait! Warning: this gets a bit creepy creepy creepy.**

**Genre: Supernatural**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

* * *

**One month later**

Hotch was in a noticeably sour mood when he came in to work late one Thursday morning. At least, his mood seemed sour to Emily. She still wasn't used to the uptight, stoic version of her former best friend. The force behind his stride didn't seem to faze anyone else on the team. Feeling brave and in need of his presence, as she'd thought about him and only him for quite a while now, she walked up to his office and knocked on the door frame.

Hotch looked up. "Come on in. Something the matter?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," Emily said cautiously, taking a seat in front of Hotch's desk. "You look a little down."

"Just had the divorce hearing with Haley this morning. Everything's finalized," Hotch said rather blandly.

"Oh," Emily said, her lips remaining parted. "I'm sorry. I mean, it must feel good to be at the end of that process, but I'm sure it still hurts at the same time."

Hotch gave a short nod that told her she was right.

"Can I ask…what about Jack? I assume you made custody arrangements?"

"I get him on weekends, given that I'm not away on a case, plus three two weeks out of the year and alternating major holidays and his birthdays."

Emily's heart hurt for Hotch. "I guess that given the constraints of your job, that sounds reasonable. Far from ideal, though."

"Yeah."

"If there's a bright side to any of this, it's that you get to try and move on now. You have a new routine established and you're not in limbo anymore. Right?"

"Right," Hotch said, leaning back in his chair. "I am glad it's over. I don't think I've ever been through anything so stressful, to be honest. Not even law school."

"Well, then," Emily said, feeling even braver than she had before walking upstairs, "I think it sounds like you need a drink. Can I buy you a beer or something tonight? Strictly platonic, nothing behind it. Just…as friends. We used to be such good friends," she said, the nostalgia almost bringing her to tears.

If for no other reason than to prevent an awkward conversation now, Hotch nodded. "Sure. That'd be nice."

"Great. I'm gonna go get back to work."

—

Emily felt a rush of blood to all the wrong places when she and Hotch grabbed a corner booth at a bar that evening after a long day at work. She knew this place.

_They_ knew this place.

If she wasn't mistaken, they had spent quite some time making out in this very booth before things had gotten so terribly complicated. Even in his late-twenties, Hotch had still been a kid, just like her. Not much of a care in the world. She didn't dare say anything, though, even if joking about Hotch's food poisoning that night was tempting.

"I'm starving," Emily complained. "I'm gonna get a burger."

"I might do the same."

So they ordered dinner and a round of beers when their waitress came by. "You doing all right?" Emily asked Hotch, trying to force from her mind the memory of his tongue down her throat thirteen years ago. The more she tried not to think about it, though, the less successful she was.

"I guess," Hotch said with a shrug. "Sorry, I'm really not very good company right now."

"It's okay. We just have to loosen you up. Then we can, I dunno, shoot the breeze, talk about old times," she said before she thought about how that would come across. Upon second thought, however, she realized she knew exactly how her subconscious had wanted it to come across. Even though Hotch was mostly to blame for the demise of his marriage—he had admitted it, and from her third party perspective, it seemed to be the case—she was still attracted to him in some illogical way. Part of her hoped it was a real attraction and not just the taboo of wanting a man who was just barely divorced. But part of her hoped it was just out of guilt for how she'd treated him back then. Neither of them were in much of a position to start a relationship now, even if they both desperately wanted it, so what good could come from real attraction?

"Old times…Like how you busted my balls from day one?" Hotch said with a fleeting grin, one that took Emily by surprise.

"Or when you went to flash your creds at that guy at the mall who was looking at me funny, and then ducked when he tried to punch you?"

"I think I became the first ever FBI agent to run away from a mall rent-a-cop," Hotch said with a short snicker.

"Good times," Emily said faintly. "God, I'd wish they'd hurry up with that food. I'm dying here."

As soon as Emily's words had finished leaving her lips, two different phones beeped away. She exchanged a "Really?" glance with Hotch and they dug out their night-ruiners.

"Guess we'd better go," Hotch said.

"Promise you'll let me buy you a drink another night," Emily insisted, leaving thirty dollars on the table before they left the bar.

"You just did buy me a drink. And dinner," Hotch pointed out, holding the door open for Emily to pass through. "We just didn't get to enjoy it."

"Still."

"Next time's on me," Hotch said with simplicity. "See you at the office."

—

"A haunted asylum?" Morgan said with a dubiously raised eyebrow.

"It's the local civilians who think the deaths are due to supernatural forces," JJ corrected him. "PD is convinced otherwise, obviously."

"Otherwise they'd be calling ghost hunters, not us," Emily pointed out.

"Exactly," JJ said with a satisfied grin shot Emily's way. "All the victims died of heart attacks and were found on separate Friday mornings. The heart attack aspect just fuels the locals' speculation about them being literally scared to death. And as you can see, the unsub left them without posing them."

"Then this guy doesn't feel any remorse," Morgan said.

"Heart attacks can be caused by an injection of potassium chloride, calcium gluconate, or sixty milileters of air," Reid said abruptly. "The first two break down into chemicals found naturally in the human body so they don't raise suspicion, and air doesn't leave anything behind. An ME would never be able to tell for certain."

"We've seen this before," Gideon said dully.

"I was just…explaining so Emily knew," Reid said, clearing his throat.

"Well, now that everyone's caught up," Hotch cut in, knowing Emily now felt sufficiently uncomfortable, "let's head to Seattle. We can finish briefing on the plane."

_Lovely_, Emily thought to herself as she followed the team out of the roundtable room. _What better way to remind me what the last thirteen years of my life could've been than to take me to the city that started it all?_ Granted, they weren't going to the city proper—instead, a small town several miles away—but the word itself was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

—

"Don't you think it'd be a better idea to scope this place out during daylight hours?" Emily asked Hotch as she slung a pair of night vision goggles—which looked more like binoculars—around her neck. The sheriff had dropped them off half a mile away so they could walk to the asylum without raising suspicion if the unsub happened to be keeping tabs on activity around his stomping grounds.

"If the unsub follows his schedule, he'll kill tomorrow night. We need to look at how this place looks at night sooner rather than later. And are you questioning my authority already?" Hotch asked. "Buy a guy a drink first…"

"Hey, I have," Emily said playfully. "This place just gives me the heebie jeebies, that's all."

"You believe in ghosts?" Hotch asked as they walked through an opening in a rusty chain-link fence. It wasn't a gate, but a parting created by deviant teenagers, most likely.

"Not per se. And I'm not afraid of the dark, either. It's just the unknown. And the fact that so many people died in here. I mean, why leave up a burnt out building like this?"

"To give the kids something to do," Hotch said. They both paused to take in the large, sorry-looking shell of a brick building in front of them. Its structural integrity was questionable even to the naked eye in the middle of the night. Hotch was beginning to wonder if Emily was right—that maybe they should save this exploratory mission for during the day. But he couldn't imagine sitting back at the police station or visiting the medical examiner or victims' families when the rest of the team had those bases covered.

They were glad to get inside out of the light drizzle, as it turned into a loud downpour moments after they found shelter. The protection from the rain was spotty, though, as they went straight to the second of two floors and there were several holes in the roof.

"This place smells disgusting," Emily said quietly.

"They really should get the cleaners to come in," Hotch mocked in his subtle way.

"Bite me," Emily said, laughing.

"Excuse me?" Hotch asked with a small smile.

"Sorry, we're on the clock, aren't we? Bite me, sir."

"You know, when you stepped into my office, you looked terrified. I think we're well past that phase, aren't we?"

Emily pushed open a set of double swinging doors that creaked on their hinges like fingernails on a chalkboard. "Yeah, I'd say so. I much prefer busting your balls."

"It's a nice change from us trying to pretend we never knew each other," Hotch admitted.

"So," Emily breathed, liking where this was going but not sure it was the best idea, "what exactly are we looking for in here? A hideout?"

"You don't need a hideout to give somebody an injection. You just need to be able to hold them down," Hotch said.

"A victim would probably be bruised from the injection if they didn't stay still, though. The ME couldn't find puncture wounds anywhere. So either this guy's got his victims under complete control, or they trust him and think he's shooting them up with…heroine or something."

"You've got a point," Hotch said. "The injection sites could have been somewhere hidden, too."

"The ME said he deals with drug-related homicides all the time, though. I think he knows what he's doing in that respect."

"Well, if you're right, then the unsub must know what he's doing, too," Hotch said.

"And I guess we can't rule out the other possibility," Emily said.

"That these people really were scared to death?"

"It's possible, isn't it? You don't have to have an unhealthy heart to have a heart attack. Put your body under enough stress and anyone can have one. Happens to professional marathon runners, even. They're some of the healthiest people around."

"You sound a bit like Reid right now," Hotch said. He decided to do a walkthrough of the building for now so they could familiarize themselves with its layout. They rarely got the opportunity to scope out a crime scene that was used on a predictable basis. Tonight would be safe. Maybe creepy, but safe.

"Reid's a super genius. I'll take that as a compliment."

"Watch out," Hotch said, stepping to the side to avoid a stream of water running directly down the middle of the ceiling. Emily's attention had drifted, though, and she walked right into it. Water soaked her hair and face, then tricked down the front and back of her shirt. "Sorry," Hotch said with a chuckle.

"My fault. Wow, that water is _not_ warm."

"Pacific Northwest in February isn't exactly known for its tropical climate."

"You need to cut the sarcasm."

"Why?" Hotch asked. "Getting on your nerves?"

"Exactly the opposite," Emily muttered. "Reminding me of that summer."

Before Hotch had the chance to respond, a clatter down the hall stopped him and Emily in their tracks. He put his finger to his lips and pointed ahead of them. She nodded and they both silently drew their weapons. There was still enough moonlight poking through the windows and holes in the roof that the goggles seemed unnecessary. Instead they both took small flashlights from their pockets and paired them with their guns.

Hotch figured the noise had come from about two or three doors down the hall. He quietly pushed open the door on the first room—a patient room, judging from the identical appearance of all the doors in this hallway—and took the first steps inside. Emily followed right behind him, clearing to the right while he cleared to the left. They met in the center of the room, shaking their heads, and headed to the next door down the hall. The rain was coming down so fiercely now that their footsteps couldn't even be heard.

Neither could Emily's uncontrollable gasp as they entered the next room. A black cloud of smoke lingered in the moonlight that shone through the paneless window. It wasn't simply smoke, though. It hung stationary in the air, not rising as normal smoke would, and it didn't smell.

That wasn't the worst of it, though. It seemed to have eyes—or something shaped just like them—buried just beneath its wispy outer surface. Eyes that bore straight into both Hotch and Emily's at the same time. Both of them knew a gun was of no use against whatever this thing was. And killing or destroying it wasn't their biggest problem.

It was the fear that crippled both of them. Not a fear of the monster or demon itself, but of the hallucinations that felt too real to be doubted.

Hotch heard Jack's infantile shrieking to his left and turned to see him being snatched away by a black figure that left Haley's body chopped up into pieces on the floor.

Meanwhile, Emily witnessed Hotch being stabbed brutally, multiple times, but she unable to help him, then found him declared dead in a hospital, covered in blood-soaked bandages.

Whatever this abomination was, however it had been created, it was making them face their worst fears. Both of them felt their hearts pounding furiously, felt a dangerous pain creep into their chests.

Hotch managed to understand the monster's power over him and snap out of it first. "Run!" he shouted, grabbing Emily.

"No," Emily cried, yanking her arm away. She walked toward the Hotch in her nightmare, her arms slightly outstretched. Hotch grabbed her again, though, tugging her out of the room. She ran without feeling her feet move. All she heard was the rusted gurneys and medical supply carts that the cloud of smoke somehow managed to bash out of its way in its pursuit of double its usual treat.

Hotch heard this clattering and knew it wasn't Emily knocking these things out of the way, since she now ran ahead of him. If the beast took up so much room in the hallway that it ran into those things, and if it couldn't travel through other matter, then maybe it couldn't get through a closed door, either. "Next room with a door intact," he shouted to Emily. She obeyed his orders, hanging a right into another patient room, letting Hotch slide in after her, then banging the door shut. The small pane of glass in the door's window was still intact and their predator stared through it, its omniscient eyes piercing right through their, starting the dreams all over again.

"Don't look," Hotch demanded, pulling Emily out of view of the door. He leaned against the wall and panted. They must have sprinted the entire length of the asylum in their run for their lives.

"What the _hell _is that?" she whispered, out of breath herself.

"Our unsub," Hotch said. He took out his phone. "What are the odds that we wouldn't have service here?" he griped, shoving it back into his pocket.

"Considering we're fifty miles from the nearest city and their closest thing to a Target is Al's Savings Barn? Not too slim." An understanding of the monster allowed Emily to slide down against the wall and sit. It wasn't so much the run that had exhausted her so much as the thrashing of her heart.

"We need to get out of here," Hotch said.

"Said every patient who ever stayed here," Emily said dryly, eying the iron bars still intact over their window. The glass was gone, though, rudely letting in the rain that was now blowing sideways with the help of gusts of wind. She noticed how wet the concrete was that she sat on and wondered just how long this building had been taking such a beating. "When was this built?" she asked.

"1854, I think Reid said," Hotch answered.

"And it burned down in, what, 1920?"

"1930," Hotch corrected her.

"There are rust marks along the walls and floor," Emily realized aloud. "The steel supports inside the concrete are rotting. It's a wonder we didn't walk right through a hole in the floor." Feeling inexplicably unsafe where she sat out of view of the smoke monster, Emily got up and went to stand near Hotch. Though she didn't fear for her life just yet, she knew, thanks to the monster, what her innermost fear was: Hotch never knowing how much she still cared about him. She had half a mind to wrap her arms around his waist from behind when she felt the crumbling beneath their feet.

Before either of them could react, they were falling with piles of rubble down to the first floor then into the basement. In what seemed like a split second, a cave of broken up concrete slabs formed above them once the smaller pieces had hit them in various places. They were trapped.

"Are you okay?" Emily asked breathlessly, the cement chunks still settling around the outside of their accidental hideout. She felt around her for an opening, but found none.

All she got in reply was a struggling grunt. She reached toward the noise and found Hotch struggling to remove a slab of concrete from on top of his chest. He lay flat on his back. They were cloaked in complete darkness now with no moonlight to help them. She reached for her night vision goggles around her neck, but only half the assembly was there. The other half had no doubt been broken off in the fall. Hotch's weren't around his neck at all.

"Stop stop stop," Emily said shakily, removing Hotch's hands. "Stay still. Can you breathe?"

"Well—enough," Hotch managed.

"Then we need to make sure you didn't hurt your back or your neck before we go moving things around. Can you feel your fingers and toes?"

"I'm not sure," Hotch groaned. "I think I'm bleeding, though."

"Okay," Emily said, raking her hands through her hair. "Umm…" She squeezed the toe of his dress shoe. "Can you feel that?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, good. Wiggle them for me. And can you feel this?" She took one of his hands delicately between both of hers and gripped it.

"Yeah," came another sigh from Hotch. He squeezed back. "I can feel it. I think my back is fine. How are you? Are you hurt at all?"

Emily had to stop and think about that. "My head's sore. I think I might've hit it. Other than that, I think I'm fine. You said you think you're bleeding?"

"Uh-huh. I think our friend is angry," Hotch said dizzily, hearing objects being scattered somewhere upstairs where their tormenter was most likely searching for them.

"Don't talk for a minute, okay? Let me feel around." Emily slipped her hands into the open space underneath the slanted slab that had Hotch pinned to the ground. She felt a pool of moisture on his chest, thicker than water. Definitely blood. Doing her best not to touch him too much, she felt around for the source of the bleeding. Once she had mapped out the boundaries of the wet area, she knew that whatever had punctured his skin was either buried deep inside him or lying around somewhere else. "Yeah, you're bleeding," she confirmed. "I don't know what's causing it, but it's not a steel bar sticking out of the concrete or anything, so I'll move it off of you. Just stay still, okay?"

"'Kay," Hotch hissed.

Emily crouched in their four-foot-tall cement tent and grasped the top edge of the jagged block with both hands. With some heavy grunting, she pulled it off of Hotch and let it fall to the floor with a _boom_, moving her own foot out of the way just in time. She wondered if the noise might attract the smoke's attention, but she didn't hear it coming. All she could hear was Hotch suppressing his yowls of pain. "Do you by chance know where your goggles went? It'd be nice if I could see what I was doing," she said.

"No idea. They might be what knocked you in the head, who knows," Hotch said.

Emily ditched the useless half of her goggles and swept off her sweater in one motion.

"What're you doing?" Hotch wondered aloud. "I'm bleeding over here."

"I'm getting something to _stop_ the bleeding," Emily said impatiently. She wadded her sweater into a ball, felt around Hotch's chest for the wettest area, and applied firm pressure with her makeshift compress. "I know it hurts, just hold still."

"How are we gonna get out of here?" Hotch grunted.

"I have no idea. That's not our biggest problem right now, though. Give me five minutes to keep constant pressure on this and hopefully it'll stop."

"'Kay," Hotch said, quieting down.

"Don't go to sleep, though," Emily warned him. "Keep talking to me, but just stay still."

"Okay…" Hotch took several shallow breaths before speaking again. "Thank you."

Emily wanted to ask "For what?" but she supposed he meant for keeping him from bleeding to death.

"Not just for this," Hotch said, reading her mind, "but for tonight…for taking me out…it got my mind off things a little."

"Good."

"I dunno…if you realized…but when we were a lot younger, we made out…in that bar…in that very booth, I think…"

Emily's sternly set mouth faltered and she grinned. "Yeah, actually, I did realize that."

Neither one of them said anything conversational over the next few minutes, Emily simply asking Hotch about every thirty seconds whether he was still awake. As time passed, Hotch's voice stopped getting dreamier, which led Emily to believe the bleeding was slowing or had ceased.

"Okay, I think it's been long enough. Let me check you." She removed the sopping wet, useless sweater and dropped it to the floor, then felt gently around his chest. It still felt quite wet, but her sweater probably hadn't absorbed anything in a while. So she stripped off her camisole and very gently blotted off Hotch's chest and waited to see if it gushed again. A minute later, he was still only damp to the touch—not completely dry, but not any wetter than when she'd finished sponging him off. "I think it's stopped," she said with a sigh of relief, She set her trembling body down on top of the slab that had trapped Hotch. "Don't move, but…do you feel better?"

"A little," Hotch said. "Thank you. I think you might've just saved my life."

Emily sniffled and almost ran her wrist under her nose, but she remembered how bloody her hands were. "Let's hope it didn't hit any vital organs, whatever it was," she said. "I can't see if it was a clean cut or not, then maybe I'd know if it was glass or—"

"Emily, you've done everything you can either way. There's no use in knowing. We just have to…wait now. For the team to realize we're missing and come looking for us. We'll be fine."

Emily nodded and swiped her hands up and down her khaki pants while she let a few silent adrenaline-driven tears fall down her cheeks. She checked her phone for service, but she knew a basement would probably not get a signal if they couldn't get one upstairs. Right she was.

"Hey." Hotch reached out blindly for her hand, giving it a gentle grasp when he found it. "I'm gonna be just fine."

"It's my turn to need help next," Emily said with a soggy laugh. "Either a mental breakdown…or an unsub driving a wooden stake through my stomach or something…"

Hotch laughed as much as he could. "Deal. I'll be there. Can I ask you something…without it sounding forward?"

"Maybe."

"Are you…wearing a shirt?"

Another sad laugh pushed its way free from Emily's lungs. "No."

"You must be freezing," Hotch said without even a touch of humor this time.

"A bit," she admitted.

"There's room on my other side…over here. Come lie down." Emily knew she needed to huddle with him for warmth to keep herself able-bodied should some other emergency arise. She nodded and stepped carefully over him, feeling her way along the ground, moving small chunks of concrete out of the way. Hotch had carefully opened up an arm for her and she rested her head in the bend of it. She didn't want to further risk infecting his wound, so she laid a hand upon his stomach instead of his chest. Hotch briskly rubbed her bare back, warming her a bit. "Are _you _okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Can I ask you something?" Emily said.

"Sure."

"What did you see? When that…smoke cloud looked at you? If it's too painful—"

"Haley dead and Jack being kidnapped by whomever killed Haley," Hotch said. "I guess I saw my worst fear. What about you?"

Emily swallowed with a dry mouth. Here they were, alone, open, their emotions (among other things) exposed, and vulnerable. What better time to speak honestly? "I saw you…I saw you getting stabbed and I couldn't do anything about it. Then I found you dead in the hospital."

Hotch's heart almost stopped. "Please tell me that's not your worst fear. Me dying."

"Not just…you dying," Emily said. "You dying without knowing…" She sighed in frustration. "Without knowing that I still care about you. I never stopped. Yeah, I hated your guts for a while, but I never stopped caring." Before she had finished her sentence, she felt Hotch's hand against her back urging her closer. Somehow their lips found each other's in the dark. The damp coolness of the asylum's basement might as well have been a tropical paradise for how much Hotch's tender kiss warmed her through every extremity. She touched a bloodied hand to his cheek before letting out a barely audible moan and parting her lips to him.

The kiss was the invigorating force, the breath of life Emily needed to keep sane and warm over the next few hours. She found herself leaning over him to partake in the act a few more times over the course of the next couple of hours. Her words were the last ones that lingered in the air, both of them silently processing what she had said until they heard footsteps above them.

Though Hotch seemed to be doing fine, all things considered, Emily couldn't stand the idea of waiting for someone to stumble upon them. She still hadn't heard the monster since she'd moved the concrete slab so loudly, so her guess was that the thing didn't have ears of any sort. "Down here!" she screamed, scrambling to find a crack in the cement structure to scream through. "Help! Federal agent down! We're in the basement!"

"Jesus," Hotch muttered. "I forgot what a set of lungs you had."

"Sorry," Emily whispered, as if that could make up for whatever damage she'd just done to Hotch's eardrums in their little echo chamber.

"On our way!" Morgan's never-sweeter voice bounced around.

"Oh, thank God," Emily said, collapsing onto the floor again. "How're you feeling?"

"Been better," Hotch said. "But…I could be worse, right?"

Emily rolled her eyes at Hotch's repeated attempt to thank her. "It's been a blast, but I can't wait to get the hell out of here."

—

Emily waited in the surgery lounge of Seattle Grace Hospital. She and the rest of the team had been told that Hotch's wound was clean and that it would be easy but time-consuming to repair the arteries that had been hit by what was most likely glass. They'd also been told that if Hotch had taken that fall by himself, he would've only lasted minutes, as he wouldn't have been able to stop his own bleeding.

Emily still couldn't help but feel a bit humiliated by the team and a crew of firemen finding her topless, but she didn't let that distract her from the good news.

"Can we see him?" she asked when the surgeon, Dr. Bailey, finally came down the hall to tell them the surgery had gone just fine.

"He's in recovery right now. He should be awake in about an hour. One of you can come back. Not room for any more."

"Go for it," Morgan said with a grin, patting Emily's arm. "You're the reason he's alive."

Emily felt her face light on fire as she followed a nurse to the recovery ward. There was little space between her and the curtain that separated her from the next patient. This put her quite close to Hotch, but she didn't mind a bit.

Hotch wasn't sure what the last thing had been that he had seen. Probably the anesthesiologist who had asked him to count backwards. But he knew he would forever remember the first thing he saw when he woke up again. As he drifted into consciousness, all he saw was black. But when he let his eyes flutter open, Emily's pallid face smiled down at him.

"Hey," he breathed, his chapped lips and parched mouth begging for moisture.

"Hey," she said, holding onto a hand. "Everything went great. You're gonna be just fine. Gideon called Haley and told her you'd been hurt but that you're okay."

"Good. Thank you…for everything."

"Stop it. You would've done the same for me, no?"

Hotch nodded instantly, his head aching as a result. "In a heartbeat. How did…they find us?"

"Some kids about to sneak around in there. They heard the floor crashing down and eventually called the police. Obviously the police knew we were in there so they took it seriously."

"Why Fridays, though?" Hotch asked. "It was just…a demon or something…how could it…lure people in…on a schedule?"

"We figured that the first two coincidentally fell on a Friday—popular night to sneak around and cause mischief—and after that, people started going out on Fridays to see if they could get in on the action or something. Then they saw the monster and some of them died. Sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The people who saw the thing and _didn't_ die never came forward, because they were sure they'd be blamed for the death of whoever else was in the building the same night."

"And what…what happened to the…thing? Whatever it was?"

An amused smile tickled Emily's lips. "The story made the morning paper and by nine o'clock, these two guys showed up to the site. They said they were from the Federal Commission for Structural Integrity in Historical Sites and this rookie cop believed them, let them in, then told us. JJ, Gideon, and Morgan went back to see who the hell these guys were and JJ said she recognized them right away."

"Who were they?"

"The Winchester brothers, according to her. Sam, and uh…Dean. Cops arrested them, put them in the slammer, and, naturally, they've since escaped. They've been tied to credit card fraud and mysterious deaths all over the country for over a year now. One of the brothers and their father had been up to it for some time before then. So far it seems like they're some sort of…supernatural-experts-slash-vigilantes. Before the team caught them on their way out of the building to arrest them, they heard this bang, and this high-pitched screaming noise. The Winchesters wouldn't tell anyone what they did, but the team searched the building three times and didn't find a single thing except a bunch of salt poured on the floor and an empty casing."

"Wow," was all Hotch could think to say. "So what was it? A demon?"

"No idea," Emily said. "Demons possess people, no? If that thing had actually gotten inside one of us, really possessed us, I can't imagine how much scarier it would've been."

It was then that Hotch remembered what Emily's worst fear had been. He felt a sudden tinge of guilt that she hadn't played a role in his worst fear, but he hoped he'd shown her effectively enough that he'd never stopped caring about her, either. "It was bad enough already, huh?" He twisted his hand and locked fingers with her.

Her eyes narrowed above a quick smile and her hair swung as she nodded fervently. "Yeah."

**A/N: I know I'm horrible for making you wait and I don't deserve any reviews, but if you feel compelled to leave on anyway, I won't argue. Thanks! :D**

**Hope you enjoyed the Supernatural reference ;)**


	17. Make A Choice

**A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry! I suck so hard. I just walked right into a writing wall and have had such trouble getting this done. And the genre didn't really help. But, again, SO sorry! I hope some of you are left…**

**You will notice that this chapter is pretty different from the others and that's because of the genre. I realize that it's super short and that there's not much plot. But it's rather a feeling I'm trying to convey. Let's hope I'm successful…**

**Please enjoy!**

**Genre: Poetry**

**Author: SussiRay**

* * *

Make A Choice

**Hotch**

The room is dark just like his eyes.

He sits, he sighs, his lips drawn tight

And all the thoughts swirl through his mind.

How he gave up without a fight.

...

An empty glass, to fill the void.

A magazine he does not read.

An empty bed, the sheets are cold.

Not what he wants. But what he needs?

...

His time has come, to make a choice

He knows he wants to trust in her.

She left him cold, she ran away.

Can they go back to where they were?

* * *

**Emily**

Her mind's a mess just like her heart.

The wounds run deep. How can they heal?

She doesn't know just what to do.

She doesn't know what she should feel.

...

A look across an empty room

With tired eyes and weary mind

A shadow moves behind closed doors.

If she steps close, what will she find?

...

Her time has come, to make a choice.

She knows she doesn't want to run.

Will she regret a leap of faith?

Can she take back, what she has done?

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Again I am SO sorry for the extremely lengthy wait. I promise that the next chapter I write won't take as long to finish. **


	18. A Woman of Principle

**A/N: I highly recommend a reread of Chapter 16 ("Fear") before you read this. I know it's been a while since that chapter was posted. Enjoy!**

**Genre: Family**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

It was a month after the attack in the haunted asylum, a month after the injury, a month after the so-called successful surgery, but Hotch's chest still ached after a long day. At least when the soreness struck him, he was taken back to that night, trapped beneath the rubble with Emily, the two of them finding a reason to kiss one another in the middle of such a horrific scene. It hadn't been their first time. They seemed to be masters at it. But, as he remembered—and Emily had remembered as well, apparently, as she'd tried to act completely normally around him ever since—they had also both perfected the art of hurting each other.

He had decided in the intervening time that he wanted a fresh start with Emily, whether or not it was appropriate given their work relationship or given his recent divorce and still fresh single fatherhood.

After dodging Morgan's questions about whether he was really ready to be back given how obvious his pain was at times, Hotch stepped carefully down the steps off the jet. It was a Saturday evening and they had just gotten back from a case. Haley had Jack at the house and would probably insist on just keeping him for the rest of the weekend and offering for Hotch to have him another night, but that wasn't what Hotch wanted. He hadn't seen his son in a week, and given how young Jack was, every day Hotch missed seemed to contain some new milestone.

"Going to pick up Jack?" Emily inquired casually while everyone loaded their bags into the back of a Suburban.

"Yeah, I think so." Hit suddenly with the idea, Hotch didn't think before asking, "Do you think you might…want to come over and meet him?"

Emily froze in her footsteps. Luckily, Hotch had asked his question quietly and no one else had been nearby to hear it. "Oh—really? Are you sure?"

"Really," Hotch said with a dry mouth. "Would that make you uncomfortable?"

"Umm, no, I'm just—" Emily stopped when JJ approached them with her last bag. "Just glad that poor old woman was okay," Emily said. JJ raised her eyebrow and got into the SUV. Their opportunity for a private conversation now vanished, Emily merely made sure she had eye contact with Hotch and gave him a short nod and smile.

—

"Come on, buddy, let's go answer the door," Emily heard from out in the hallway of Hotch's apartment building. "Someone special is here to meet you."

The little boy, not quite a year and a half, uttered some baby gibberish and greeted her with his fingers in his mouth as he sat in his father's arms.

"Hey," Hotch said with cheer. "Come on in, make yourself comfortable."

"Hi there," Emily said more to Jack than to Hotch, her voice two octaves higher than normal. "You are even cuter than in your pictures. Seriously," she said, now to Hotch, "he's adorable. What big, beautiful eyes."

"Those big beautiful eyes let him get away with murder," Hotch said with a chuckle. "Can you say hi to Emily, Jack?" The boy shook his head and tried to squeeze his way free of his father's grasp. Hotch sighed and put him down on the floor. "Sorry."

"Oh, that's okay. I'll get him to like me before I leave."

Hotch grinned. "Pizza's on the counter. You still like supreme?"

"Sounds perfect, thanks. I don't get a tour first, though?" Emily said playfully.

Hotch held two plates in midair. "Ah, of course. Didn't even think about that. Follow me." He led her over the baby gate, which was easier than releasing it, and took Jack with him. "You'll have to excuse the mess. I wasn't planning on company."

"Especially not company that demands to see every room in the apartment, right?" Emily said, accidentally brushing her hand against Hotch's leg in the tight hallway and not feeling all that badly about it.

"Right. Bathroom's right here if you need it…and this is Jack's room. Like I said, excuse the mess."

Emily had to laugh. Maybe five toys were out of place and some folded laundry had yet to be put away, but Jack's crib was neatly made. "Relax, it looks fine," she said.

"That makes me feel better, because my room's cleaner," Hotch said, pushing his bedroom door open. The crisply made bed screamed for him to take someone else to it one of these nights, and at that thought he reflexively turned to Emily only to find her staring at him.

Bashfully she turned away and crossed her arms. "Nice place you've got here. Upgrade from the last place of yours that I saw."

Hotch remembered them sleeping together in his hot, muggy, empty apartment the night before he'd left for Seattle. The night before he'd walked out of her life for thirteen years. That night had been the subject of his fantasizing and regret for quite some time, both following the breakup and lately, once Emily had popped back into his life. "Am I the only one who has a love-hate relationship with that night?" he said, again before a proper thought could inhibit him.

"Definitely not. I know perfectly well what you mean," Emily said. She dished up pizza for both of them in the kitchen.

"Maybe we should…try and clear the air."

"Thirteen-year-old air has a way of clearing itself," Emily said dismissively. "At least I hope so. If I remember correctly, I said some pretty hurtful things."

"As did I," Hotch said, setting Jack down in his highchair and beginning to pull apart a piece of pizza he'd put in the fridge to chill. "I just feel like we've been kind of avoiding each other in that way lately. After what happened in the asylum, I thought maybe we were ready to…"

"Pick up where we left off?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Though where we left off wasn't a very nice place and was as ill-defined as where we are now."

A single laugh escaped Emily's lips as a laugh. "Exactly. Let's just…nullify that night all those years ago."

Hotch kissed his son on the forehead and watched him feed himself. "Nullify all of it?"

"Yes," Emily said, taking Hotch aback. "All of it. The fighting, the yelling, the se—sleeping together," she said furtively, even though Jack was far too young to understand what they were talking about.

"Even that? I won't lie, that kind of took me by surprise," Hotch admitted.

"I feel like you want us to have another chance. Am I right?" Emily said bravely.

Hotch swallowed. "Yes. Despite our work—"

"Let's put all that aside right now. All I'm trying to say is that if we open ourselves up to the idea of _us_ again, we have to start over. Or at least pick things up when we were just friends that summer, before we ever even kissed. If we go into this with that last night on our minds, I know all I'm going to want to do is something that isn't good for forging a real relationship."

Hotch's heart fluttered wildly. "So you want a relationship?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I guess I just can't let go of what you said that night. I'm stuck in this mindset where I'm only good for one thing."

Emily almost fell apart. "Hotch, really, I didn't mean those things. If the circumstances had been slightly different—maybe if I hadn't found out about Seattle by accident, and it had been a decision we'd made together—which I know is silly because we _weren't_ together, so I had no right to expect that kind of say—anyway, I…sometimes really wish I would've said 'To hell with it' and gone with you. I can't tell you how many times I've wondered what our lives would be like had I gone with you."

His dinner completely forgotten now, Hotch locked eyes with Emily. "I thought you'd never do that for a guy. Give up your job."

"Well, not just any guy…but what you and I had felt so much more special than just a summer fooling around. Even before we actually _fooled around_. If I hadn't been so angry and confused and a whole slew of things for which I don't blame you, then I would've been able to see straight. I'm so sorry for what I said."

Hotch had never expected his invitation for pizza to result in a conversation quite like this. "It was in the heat of the moment."

"That doesn't make it okay. And there was one thing I didn't say to you that was particularly inexcusable _given_ the fact that it was in the heat of the moment. I…I did love you, and I should've said it back instead of flipping out at you. You put yourself out there like that and instead of being honest, I was horrible to you. Maybe if I hadn't been so hotheaded, I would've been able to say it back and that's what could've made the difference. I'm sorry. But I did love you. I don't know if that makes anything better," she said, realizing how sweaty her palms here, "but I did."

Never had the past tense caused Hotch so much pain. He knew better than to ask if she still loved him. Asking such a question would certainly be starting off at the wrong place.

"I really want us to have a chance, too. You're not the only one who wants that," Emily said, her hand creeping toward his on the table. "But if we give it a shot, then we need to do things right. We're not kids anymore. And it's not just us anymore," she said with a meaningful glance toward Jack.

Hotch tucked in his lips and covered Emily's hand easily with his own. "You're right. We should be more responsible. So I take it you don't mind dating a divorcee with a kid?"

"Of course not," Emily said with an easy laugh.

"What about your own…family plans? Do you have any?"

"Wow, this conversation is moving along fast, but it's okay," Emily said hastily. "When these variables are involved, it's smart to talk about it before anyone gets too attached. Anyway, I…hope to have at least one child of my own someday, though I don't know if that's in the cards anymore given time and career constraints. Now to make _you_ uncomfortable—would you be open to having more children?"

Hotch looked to Jack, only to find him slumped drowsily over his half-eaten dinner. "Definitely open to that. What about work, though? You said you wanted to be responsible." He released the tray from Jack's highchair and removed him with expert care, bringing him to his chest.

"Well, are there any specific policies on this team?" Emily asked.

"Thanks to Dave, yes. No dating whatsoever. But there are several other teams running out of the Academy and out of Headquarters. And if we're talking about fresh starts and doing things right, maybe it's time for me to think of a career to ensures that I get every second I can with Jack. Maybe someday I'll be fit to see him more than just weekends and holidays."

"Okay, _now_ this conversation is going too fast," Emily said. "First off, I think you're fit to see him whenever you want. I mean, you could've just given up this weekend since it was already halfway done, but you went and got him anyway, even though you'd just worked for four days straight with hardly any sleep. That says a lot."

"I appreciate the support, but you're not a judge," Hotch pointed out. He stood and motioned toward the hallway. Emily followed him.

"If you want to make a career change, then fine, great, just don't…don't do anything rash, okay?" Emily pleaded.

"I'm just putting some options out there, that's all," Hotch assured her. He laid Jack down in his crib fully clothed and turned on a musical mobile to lull him the rest of the way to sleep. "Sorry you didn't see much of him," he said before getting the light. As soon as he hit the switch, though, Jack began to whine. "Uh-oh, too soon."

"May I?" Emily asked, reaching toward the crib, where Jack stood up with his arms outstretched.

"He's usually out cold once I turn the mobile on. Strange," Hotch said. "Go ahead."

Emily smiled warmly and pulled the baby into her arms. "Hi there, sweetie," she cooed. "Can you go to sleep for me?"

"You were right," Hotch said, leaning against the wall. "You said you'd make him like you before you left."

"Is that you saying it's time for me to leave?" Emily asked while Jack dozed off against her shoulder to her light swaying and bouncing.

"Not at all. Once he's asleep, maybe we could have a proper date," Hotch suggested.

"A proper first date is not cold pizza at your apartment while your son sleeps down the hall," Emily said flatly.

"Wow, you were so much easier to please thirteen years ago," Hotch remarked.

"What can I say? My tastes have matured."

Hotch laid the back of his hand against Jack's forehead and determined that he didn't feel feverish. "How about dinner somewhere nice. Can I surprise you?"

Emily leaned in toward Hotch to place a kiss on his cheek. "Absolutely."

"And can you still stay tonight, just so we can catch up? We never really have yet."

"I'd love to, but if I'm eating cold pizza, I'm going to need a beer."

"No worries there, I think I've got some. He's out for good now," Hotch said, gesturing toward Jack. Emily took half a minute to lower the baby slowly into his crib, even leaving her hand on his stomach for a few moments once he was lying down.

"You're a natural. Where'd you learn that trick?" Hotch asked, remembering Haley telling him that a warm hand left on the baby helped ease the transition into bed.

"I didn't know it was a trick," Emily said sincerely. "It just made sense."

"Well, I think you're going to be great with him. And with your own someday, no matter when that is and no matter whom you settle down with." They walked back down the hall and Hotch motioned for Emily to take the couch, letting her sit on what he'd just said. He showed up a minute later with their pizza and two bottles of beer.

"So, you want to catch up?" Emily said, wishing Hotch hadn't left such heavy words lingering in the air. All it had accomplished was giving her visions of carrying his baby—something far too serious for this point in their non-existent relationship.

"Yeah, besides work matters. Personal matters."

"Like how many guys I've dated, how long my longest relationship was, why I haven't gotten married? Those kind of personal matters?"

"You sure haven't lost your touch and making me feel incredibly uncomfortable," Hotch said.

Emily smirked and held up her beer. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"To new beginnings," Hotch said, raising his bottle, too.

"To new beginnings."

They each took a first sip and kicked back. Before Hotch asked any personal questions and turned the pseudo-date into an interview, he had something else he wanted to know. Ever since Emily had left that peck on his cheek back in Jack's room, Hotch had felt more alive than he had in weeks. More alive, in fact, than he had been since their time trapped in the asylum, when he'd been ironically close to death for a while. "Can I ask you something?"

"Here we go," Emily said ominously, though with a twinkle in her eye.

"Nothing like that. I'm just wondering if you'd…let someone kiss you on a first date."

"This isn't a first date," Emily noted.

"Exactly. It's not technically a date at all, according to you."

Emily's eyes narrowed to slits. "You're sneaky."

Hotch laughed and took Emily's lack of objection as permission to move closer. Just as he closed in on her seemingly freshly made-up face, he thought of something funny to say and paused, but thought better of it.

"What? Does my breath stink?" Emily asked, backing away and covering her mouth.

"No," Hotch said with a chuckle. "I was just going to tell you that you could keep your shirt on this time—you know—"

"Trust me, I remember," Emily said, going pink at the recent memory.

"Sorry," Hotch said, straightening his lips. "Did I ruin the moment?"

Emily shook her head. She longed to kiss him with her eyes open until the very last moment, in a lit room instead of under a pile of rubble. And—as Hotch had so kindly pointed out—fully clothed.

It was about time the two of them did something properly. As their lips finally touched, as hands surfed through hair and tongues begged for entrance, the rush was overwhelming. It was their best kiss yet, without question, because this time they both had hope for something real.

—

"So this is what it feels like," Emily said as Hotch took her hand outside a French restaurant two weeks later. Their date had been postponed three times thanks to work, but so far, after a perfect dinner, it had been worth the wait.

"What _what_ feels like?" Hotch said, looking in his pocket for his valet ticket.

"Being on a proper date with you. Being allowed to call it a date. Knowing that if it wasn't the first date, I could kiss you and I wouldn't have to worry about what you thought it meant, because for the first time in thirteen years, we're actually on the same page."

"I thought the first date thing only applied to the first kiss, not any kiss," Hotch said.

Emily swatted him in the side. "_That_ was what you took away from everything I just said?"

Hotch loved getting a rise out of her. Her eyes rolling into the back of her head drew a carefree laugh from him. "Really, come on…" Hotch handed his ticket to the valet and they stood waiting for his car. "You already let me kiss you once."

"No kiss on the first date. I'm a woman of principle."

"Is that the new name for a tease?" Hotch quipped.

"If I didn't know you were such a gentleman, this little act might get more of a reaction out of me."

Hotch's laughter escalated as he pulled Emily close and studied every twist and turn of her luxuriously curled hair. He settled for kissing her on the temple.

"What time is it?" Emily asked absentmindedly a few minutes later as she looked at the dashboard clock anyway. Hotch was navigating side streets to get to Emily's apartment.

"Nine-thirty, why?"

"Feels more like six," Emily said, staring out her window as the houses passed them by. "Stop."

"What? Why?"

"Just stop—stop," Emily demanded, rolling down her window. "Back up."

Hotch obeyed and put the car into reverse, waiting until Emily told him to stop again. "Did you see something?" Hotch asked as Emily stared dreamily at a gorgeous brick Victorian with a realtor sign staked in the front lawn. "Emily?"

"Shh," she said, though she reached over and took his hand, enfolding it in both of hers. At some point, her gaze morphed into fantasies of the future. Jack, five or six, chased a younger sister around the yard, and Emily inexplicably felt another little one along the way. She knew one child was asking for a lot, let alone two, but she couldn't help but feel that this was where she and Hotch belonged. For the sake of keeping things at a first date level, she didn't tell Hotch what was on her mind.

"Nice house," Hotch remarked, somewhat confused as to why their stopping here had been so urgent. "Did you know someone who lived there or something?"

"No, I just…really like it. It speaks to me, as much as a house can, anyway. I don't have the kind of money for that kind of mortgage payment, anyway. I'm good now. You can go ahead."

"You sure?" Hotch asked, amused.

Emily smiled and rolled her window back up, surprising Hotch with a short but invigorating kiss on the lips.

"What happened to principles?" Hotch asked, putting his foot on the gas when someone honked a horn behind him.

"I was having a moment. Besides, I was going to break the rules and kiss you when you dropped me off anyway."

"Does that mean you'll invite me up for coffee?" Hotch hoped.

"Don't push your luck."

**A/N: Please leave a review! I (we!) appreciate it :)**


	19. A Second Attempt At A First Time

**A/N: You must admit, this update was way faster than my last one! ;)**

**Slight warning: M-rated, but not graphic at all, borderline T.**

**Author: SussiRay**

**Genre: Romance**

The front door sounded unusually loud as it thudded closed behind Emily. In fact every single sound around her, including her own breathing, sounded like drums banging in her ears. She had thought that her days of being nervous and filled with that giddy and somewhat uncomfortable energy because of a man were behind her. But as she watched Hotch's back as he made his way through her hallway and felt her palms start to sweat she realized that was obviously not the case.

Six weeks had gone by since their second 'first date', but since then they had only had time for another handful of official dates. Cases followed directly by mounds of paperwork and follow-up as well as Hotch's weekends with Jack had been giving them very little time to actually spend together while not on the clock. And neither felt comfortable being anything but co-workers when they were with the rest of the team. They had been taking things slowly so far. They had been taking everything slowly.

The time that they had spent together, however, had been next to perfect. She hadn't dared believe that they would so easily slip back into their old pattern of friendly and flirty banter. But they had. Sure, there were still moments of awkward silence that neither of them knew how to fill because they were still adapting to being both co-workers as well as two people who were something more than friends. But when they were alone on their dates –and she knew how much it made her sound like a cliché – she felt as though she were twenty-two again.

She shook her head a little at the complete cheesiness of that thought and continued down the hallway, following Hotch into the living room.

"Would you like some wine?" she asked, already moving towards the wine rack on top of the kitchen island.

"Um, sure, maybe just half a glass though," he said and she could tell from the slight tremor to his voice that whatever anticipation she was feeling, he was feeling as well.

She put all of her concentration into first opening the bottle and then carefully pouring the wine into their two glasses. The air around them was crackling with nervous energy and it was making her hands shake. She closed her eyes. She had been in this situation before, many more times than she really felt like thinking about. She wasn't a teenager and neither was Hotch. They had been here once before. And if she really let herself think about it, she knew that was why she was so nervous.

They had been here once before and they had messed it up.

"Are you stomping the grapes yourself?" Hotch's amused voice danced through the air on unsteady feet, reminding Emily of his presence. Although, how could she forget?

"Sorry," she said, giving him a small smile as she set both glasses on the table. She took a seat on the sofa next to Hotch, making sure to leave a little over a foot of distance between them. "I guess I got a little lost in thought there." She chuckled nervously and took a sip of her wine, trying to earn another few moments to compose herself.

Hotch smiled at her, his lips in a thin line, as she set the glass down. "Do you want to share those thoughts?" he asked. "You don't have to, of course," he added, "but you know you can tell me anything, right?"

She nodded. She did know that. Anything she told Hotch, he would understand. That hadn't really been the case their first time around, but they weren't the same people anymore. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her hands over her thighs and braced herself against her knees. "I'm nervous," she said, the words leaving her in one quick breath.

"Of what?"

"I think you know and I think you're just as nervous as I am. You're just a little better than me at hiding it."

Hotch glanced briefly at his clasped hands before letting his eyes return to Emily. "Not good enough, obviously," he said.

"Stand up," Emily said, kind of abruptly, taking Hotch's hands in hers and pulling him onto his feet. "Take a deep breath," she instructed, "we're putting way too much pressure on ourselves." Breathing deeply she kept her hands locked around Hotch's and looked into his eyes. "Let's not let what happened in the past get in our way." She took a step closer, standing so close that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. "I want this. I want you."

"I – I want it – you – too," Hotch said, stumbling over the words. "You must know that I do."

"But, it's a little scary, I know," Emily said. "Trust me I know. I think my palms have been constantly sweaty for the last two hours." She paused. "Sorry, that was gross."

Hotch barked a loud laugh. "I think that was the perfect way to break the ice," he said, grinning, his cheeks creased with dimples. "We needed something to lighten the mood."

Emily laughed. "At your service, Unit Chief Hotchner," she said, giving a little mock salute. "I'm glad my awkwardness is of help."

Hotch was still chuckling softly as he reached out and put his hands on Emily's shoulders. They were big and warm and made Emily think of other places she wanted to feel them. She shivered a little at those thoughts. She tilted her head back, looking up at Hotch through long lashes as he inched closer.

Their lips met finally. Even though this was a barrier that they had crossed several weeks earlier and was something that again felt natural and easy, it still made Emily's body vibrate like a plucked string. No matter how much they talked about it and how ready she knew that they both were it didn't change the fact that she was still nervous.

Hotch's mouth moved lightly over hers, his lips ghosting across hers with the slightest hint of a touch, and then he pulled back. He looked down at her and his eyes were shades darker than they had been only a couple of minutes before and his breathing was shallow.

"This is okay, right? We're not moving too fast?"

"It's fine. You really don't have to ask, Aaron," she promised. "If this wasn't okay, then I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be doing this." She cupped the back of his head, running her fingers through the short strands of hair. "Or this," she whispered against his mouth, gently pushing his head further down and pressing her mouth against his. "Or this." Her hands skimmed his back. She grabbed two handfuls of the starchy material of his light blue dress shirt and pulled until she could slide her hands past the hem and over the smooth plane of his back.

Hotch's skin was hot to the touch and he shivered under Emily's cool fingers. "Sorry," she chuckled, pulling her hands back.

"No, no. Don't be," Hotch said, taking her hands in his, rubbing her fingers between his palms, and then sliding them back around his waist.

Emily smiled, pulling him closer and leaning up to press her lips against his in another steadier, more certain kiss. She slid her tongue along his bottom lip, prompting him to part them and let her in. The slide of their tongues together was warm and inviting, sending shudders down her spine and goose bumps over her skin. She hummed in content. Hotch's hands were planted firmly on her waist; hers were rubbing his chest.

She pulled back again, though only so that she could gather enough of her whirling mind to slowly pop each button on Hotch's shirt until it was pulled off all the way and lying in a heap at their feet on the plush carpet.

Her legs felt like jelly and she feared they would both topple over if she didn't guide them down. She didn't let go of Hotch; she clutched his shoulders tighter and pressed her mouth harder against his as they plopped down onto the sofa. Legs twisted together and hands clutching at each other; she was practically in his lap, refusing to let any air in between them.

"Is this going where I think it is going?" Emily asked in between heaving breaths, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen, after their mouths had parted with an obscene smack.

Hotch's hands never stilled; running over her thighs and up her sides. "I can't lie and say that it's not what I want," he said, "But if you're not ready yet, we can wait. This time round, we have all the time in the world. There's no need to rush it."

"Do you think it would be rushing it?" she asked, feeling a twinge of hesitation.

"No, I really don't," he said. "Last time we did it for all the wrong reasons. This time it wouldn't be some sort of skewed way of saying goodbye or even trying to hold on to what we had together. I'm committed to this – us – one-hundred percent and I want this, us making love, to be about that."

She threaded her fingers between his, smiling, feeling any hesitation that might have been lingering vaporize and drift off. "Do you want to take this upstairs then?" She cringed a little at how silly and suggestive it sounded, but any awkwardness she thought it may have brought disappeared when Hotch's eyes turned black and he nodded slowly. She gave his hand a tug, not looking at him, as she led the way up the narrow staircase.

The next couple of minutes passed in almost a daze. All of Emily's nerves and excitement and lust blended together; swirling around her and blinding her in the best way possible. Hotch's hands were everywhere; his breath close to her skin as he whispered disjointed sentences in her ear. "Beautiful. You're so beautiful," he said, his mouth sliding down her neck.

His hands tugged at the hem of her sweater, deftly pulling it over her head. Her hands were pulling at his belt, somehow managing to yank it from its loops. Their mouths met in kisses that grew headier and more and more salacious with each slide of their tongues.

Her shoes were left on the floor and her skirt and bra flung somewhere over Hotch's shoulder, and as her naked back met the soft sheets on her bed she was grounded again. She could collect her thoughts again and focus. She closed her eyes. Her body shivered as Hotch's fingers danced across it; from her neck down to her hipbone. He took all the time in the world until she was writhing with need under his touch. She gasped as he skimmed along the edge of her underwear.

"Ready?" he asked in a husky whisper. His voice was deep and filled with want.

She nodded, smiling at him, rubbing her finger along the laugh lines creasing his cheek.

She gasped when his fingers dipped below the waistband, stroking the silky soft skin there, and then pulled her underwear down slowly – reverently – exposing her to his waiting eyes. She could feel her heart beating hard against her ribcage as she watched him quickly strip off his boxers and fiddle, a little clumsily, with a condom. Her heart was racing, but she wasn't nervous anymore. How could she be nervous when it felt so right?

"Are you nervous still?" she asked.

She laughed quietly at Hotch taking his time to actually think about his answer despite his position – naked, erect and on his knees beside her. "No," he said after a few seconds. "Not anymore. Because I can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be right now than here with you – like this – and I think that's reassuring, not intimidating."

"You do know you're amazing, right?" she smiled, pulling him down and pressing her lips against his. Her hands gripped his back, feeling every twitch of the taut muscles there, as he moved to settle between her thighs. She could feel his fingers teasing and exploring and relearning until she was sure that she couldn't take it anymore. Every touch was like a little jolt of lightning speeding through her body. "Please," she moaned into his mouth, "Please, Hotch."

He kissed her one more time, all of his passion poured into it, and pulled back. Then he was above her and all around her and finally filling her sweetly and steadily and so tantalizingly slowly. Her breath caught in her throat as he started to move. Despite her jittering nerves earlier, she hadn't doubted that this would eventually happen, she wanted it to. But in that moment – as Hotch started moving lovingly inside her – she knew how much she'd wanted it to happen just like this. The moment was perfect and nothing like their first time.

She moaned his name louder and more desperate with each thrust. With every movement she could feel the little ball filled with fire and lust and love that she felt inside her every time she looked at Hotch growing stronger and glowing brighter. As if Hotch could read her thoughts he caught her hands in his, tangling their fingers together and gave them a gentle squeeze.

He mouthed at her neck to each snap of his hips and she wrapped her legs around his waist, working her hips in time with his. They moved together perfectly, pushing each other closer and closer to the edge.

"So close," she rasped against his ear. Hotch grunted, thrusting harder once, twice and three times and in an explosion of light she could feel herself falling. Hotch's hands squeezed her hips and a second later she could feel his release inside her. She felt as if every bone in her body was melting, slowly turning her into a content pool of bliss.

Still breathing hard, she pulled and tugged until Hotch was nestled against her. "This was… this is perfect," she said softly, already feeling herself starting to drift off, "I don't know why I was nervous. I never have to be nervous when I'm with you."

Hotch didn't say anything; only his deep breaths filled the room. He just hugged her close and held onto her as she drifted easily off to sleep.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! It's been a while since I wrote something like this so please let me know what you thought! :)**


	20. Three Words

**A/N: Sorry for the prolonged wait! Please be aware this chapter contains sexual assault to a degree.**

**Genre: Suspense**

**Author: hotchityhotchhotch**

Emily closed her laptop as if her web browsing involved something far dirtier than a job search. She swallowed only to find that her mouth was completely dry; then she let Hotch into her apartment.

"Hey," he said with a smile and a quick kiss. "Hope Thai is okay."

"Sounds great," Emily said, getting down some plates from her dark cherry kitchen cabinets.

"Everything all right?" Hotch asked, sneaking up behind her and speaking almost right into her ear.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Will you get some glasses?"

After a month of sneaking around, Hotch figured Emily just felt a bit skittish. In all honesty, so did he. Even though no one would catch them together at her place, it was smart to be vigilant. But if he had things his way, this weekend would give them a couple of days away from all of that.

"You look like you're up to something," Emily observed keenly, spotting Hotch's distant yet pleased look.

"I am. I need you to pack a suitcase."

Emily stopped un-bagging their dinner. "What for?"

"The beach."

A smile curled Emily's lips up. "When? Right now?"

"Got us a redeye. Leaves in…three hours," he said, checking his watch.

Emily gave up on food altogether. "Hotch, you're insane. You already paid for tickets? Where are we going?"

Hotch laughed. "Can you ever ask just one question at a time? And yes, I already bought our tickets, but the destination is a surprise."

"Neither one of us is on vacation right now. You do realize that, right? If we get a case this weekend, we're expected to be on it." But Emily looked excited despite her qualms.

"I'm aware of how the rules work, trust me. Just eat your dinner and go pack a bag."

"What about Jack?"

"Haley and her sister took him to see some extended family. I traded her for some weeknights next week. Now go."

—

"I can't believe you didn't tell me ahead of time so I could maybe put some self-tanner on," Emily said, lifting her shirt a crack. "I probably glow in the dark right now." They got in line to check in for their flight.

Hotch chuckled and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. A girlfriend was something he definitely hadn't thought was in his future, much less one as promising as Emily. "I love your ghost-like aura."

"Very funny."

Just then, both their phones chirped simultaneously.

"No," Emily moaned, getting to hers first. "Come on, I didn't even get to find out where we were going first. _Ugh_…"

"Don't worry, I'll get a refund," Hotch said, though rather disappointed too as he pulled out his credentials, ready to abuse them.

"Still…it was going to be our first trip together. You surprised me and everything. It was so sweet."

"I'll surprise you again," Hotch promised. "Right now, we have to get through this line in time to get you back to your place so you can take your own car to work."

"Is it just me, or is sneaking around getting old already?" Emily said before thinking.

Hotch's heart stopped. Even an infinitesimal possibility of losing Emily was too much. "It's…not just you. But we'll work it out."

—

"You don't look happy," Garcia said when Hotch walked into the office a few minutes after Emily.

"Did I ruin a vacation or something?" JJ asked.

Hotch answered neither one of them and took a seat next to Emily. "Let's start the briefing so we can get wherever we're going."

JJ gave Hotch a strange look, then aimed her remote control at the laptop. Onto the TV screen popped an image of a dark-haired couple in bed, their hands tied behind their backs. "Amanda and Pete Semzak, both thirty-four, were found mutilated in their bed yesterday morning by their housekeeper. As you can see, they were naked. The unsub seemed to have waited until they were in the act or maybe had fallen asleep afterward and killed Pete first with three stabs to the chest, at some point castrated him, and then killed Amanda with stab wounds placed in a similar pattern. At least they figured the unsub killed the husband first judging from the spatter analysis and the fact that it would be strategically sounder to bring down the man first when he still had the element of surprise. Preliminary analysis puts their time of death at around ten p.m."

"I looked over this case yesterday," Hotch said. "The police weren't asking for help yet. Another incident?"

JJ nodded solemnly. Another similar looking couple showed up on the screen. "Carolyn and Adam Woodward, just last night. Same age, signature, only a mile across town. Carolyn's sister came to pick her up for brunch this morning and found them. Same estimate on time of death. PD wants us down their pronto. They can't afford to lose the tourism bucks to a serial killer."

"Let's finish the briefing on the jet," Hotch said, taking down some notes. He made sure that he and Emily were the last ones to leave the roundtable room. They let everyone else get quite the head start.

"What?" she asked when she noticed the glint in his eye. "No way," she said in dramatic realization. "Myrtle Beach, really? That's where you were going to take me?"

Hotch nodded. "I had a spa trip planned for you and nine holes of golf planned for me, even. I won't give away anything else, though. We'll still go on a real trip eventually. But maybe once the case is over, we can at least sneak in a moonlit walk on the beach."

"Yeah, nothing gets me in the mood for romance more than couples being mutilated while they have sex," Emily teased.

"I was thinking we might have to have a drink beforehand."

—

"Any luck with the Semzaks' parents?" Hotch asked Gideon as they all reconvened at the police department the next evening after several hours of interviews.

"No known enemies. Nice quiet newlyweds heavily involved in their church. Nothing interesting besides the fact that they'd gotten some work done in their basement recently. I've got Garcia looking through employee backgrounds."

"I have her doing the same for the Woodwards. They had some basement work done, too," Emily reported. "They were also newlyweds, but nothing about church. We can probably rule out that connection."

"That's a good starting point," Hotch said. "But I'm sure a lot of people get work done in their basements around here with all the hurricanes and tropical storms coming through. So that's not good enough. We need something more to go on while Garcia digs. We might have another dead couple on our hands by tonight."

"First responders were different, so nothing there," Reid reported. "I checked out the scenes and they're done dusting for prints. They haven't found anything that's already in the system."

"Any evidence of rape?" Hotch asked Morgan, who had visited the morgue.

"Hard to tell so soon, given what they were doing at the time or right before. They obviously found semen in both women and they also had skin under their fingernails with no signs of nail marks on their husbands, but they easily could've been fending off the unsub when he came at them with the knife, not necessarily resisting rape. We won't have any DNA evidence until the first rape kit comes back tomorrow."

Hotch had a sudden thought. "Reid, you were at the crime scenes—were the windows open?"

"Uhh…yeah, in both bedrooms. But the CSIs could've opened them."

"Good CSIs wouldn't. What about the curtains?" Hotch asked.

Reid closed his eyes. "They were mostly closed, but sheer. If the light was on and someone was close enough—"

"Both one-story houses, right?" Emily said ominously, flipping through the pictures in her case file. Reid nodded. "Think we've got an out-of-control peeping Tom on our hands?" she proposed.

"Anything's possible," Hotch asked. "Garcia's busy with employee screenings. Morgan, go to Detective Ferris and tell him we need a list of convicted sexoffenders within a five-mile radius, specifically voyeurs. "Once we have the list, we'll all split it and start getting alibis."

Happy to have some leads on the case so soon, Emily took her portion of the list and began a few blocks from the police department. The first sex offender she questioned dug through his garbage for a movie stub from the night of the first murders and reported having spent three hours in front of his computer the night after. He'd even shown Emily his computer history, the contents of which told her that he wasn't quite on the path to recovery from his perverted tendencies. She thanked him for his time and went to the shabby home of the next man to be questioned.

Jeremy Gray, thirty-five and overly tan given his blonde hair, looked surprised to see Emily at his door but let her inside without making her beg. Emily knew she outmatched him in wits, but his two-hundred-fifty pounds of pure muscle made her eager to move on to the next man on her list. The man they were looking for had been able to keep his fully grown male victims down long enough to tie their hands and stab them in a precise pattern without using drugs or knocking them out. If anyone fit that bill, her current subject did. "Can you tell me where you were Wednesday and Thursday nights between five and ten o'clock?" she asked when they took a seat at Gray's kitchen table.

"Uhh, let's see…Wednesday night…that's my AA meeting."

"Would you authorize the facilitator of your group to verify you were there? I'm sure you signed in, right?"

"Oh, you know what, I mighta forgot. I can call, though. Name's Sherry Dunbar. I'm not like…wanted for anything, though, am I?"

Emily shook her head. "No evidence that we have points us specifically to you besides the nature of the crime. We have dozens of others on our list. If you could get me the phone number of your AA facilitator and I can verify your alibi over the phone, that would be fine. What about Thursday night?"

"Lemme go find the number…uhh, Thursday night I go out with my buddies, hit up the tittie bar, to be honest, sorry—"

_Recovering alcoholics and strip clubs don't exactly mesh well,_ Emily thought to herself. She was just about to text a teammate discreetly for backup when Gray showed up with a slip of paper.

"Thank you," she said, dialing the number. She grinned uncomfortably as Gray watched her intently. "Ms. Dunbar, this is Special Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI. We're investigating two double-homicides and I need the verify—"

When Emily saw the switchblade, she would have gone silent anyway, but Gray added a hand over her mouth for good measure. She set the phone down on the table. He pressed the blade to her throat and reached across her waist for her gun. Now all she had over him was her brains and the knowledge that a knee to the groin could be crippling. She wasn't going to try anything too risky with a knife to her throat, though. She wanted to cry when Gray proved smart enough to shut her phone off to keep it from being tracked.

She'd thought it a bit chauvinistic of Morgan to suggest that she not go out on these house calls alone, but as she was led into the back of the house and into a bedroom plastered with identical photographs of a brunette—like herself, Amanda, and Carolyn—she wished someone would have listened to Morgan's advice.

She tried to fight back when she saw Gray pulling a length of rope out of his nightstand drawer.

—

Hotch was in the middle of questioning his own potential suspect when his phone rang. He ignored it for the first time and followed his two-call rule. When it rang again a few minutes later, he excused himself and answered Morgan. "What is it?"

"It's Prentiss. Somethin's wrong, Hotch."

Hotch's heart dropped into his shoes. "What? Where is she?"

"We don't know. Some woman named Sherry Dunbar called in saying she got a call from Emily but that she got cut off mid-sentence. She said the phone call didn't end right away. It was more like someone was forced to stop talking."

"You start at the top of her portion of the list. I'll start at the closest house from the police station. She had to have been following a pattern. We'll find her. You take Gideon with you," Hotch said. His current interview subject seemed to understand he was off the hook as Hotch jogged out the door.

"What about you?" Morgan asked. Hotch heard a car door shutting over the phone—Morgan was already on his way.

"I'll call in and have them send police to every location on her list. Morgan, be careful."

—

"You look more like Katie than the other girls, even," Gray said wistfully, combing Emily's hair behind her ear. Now instead of a knife to her throat, he had a gun to her temple. Her wrists were tied behind her. "Just the right size, too."

"Why?" Emily asked, gulping when the man's hand rested against her breast. "What did Katie do to you to make you so upset?"

"I suppose since I'm gonna kill you after I have my way with you, I could let you in a little," Gray said, leaning in and breathing on Emily's neck before he kissed it. "She and I were engaged. I bought her the nicest ring, got behind on my rent for it. She cried. She said yes a thousand times. I decided since we were gonna get married, it was time for us to be completely open with each other."

Emily tried to resist lying down at Gray's urging, but he pushed more forcefully until she had no choice. _Rape's not as bad as dying_, she told herself. _Besides, the team will find me or I'll think of something before it gets to that_.

"When she found out about my record, she left. Married some half-Asian jackoff with a buncha money."

"Why kill other couples, though? Why not Katie and her husband?" Emily asked, keeping her tone curious.

"Oh, I'll kill them, too. They're having a little honeymoon at home this week. I go over to watch and listen, but I'll save them for the end of their vacation. Let them enjoy themselves a little. In the meantime, I can perfect my art."

"Three stabs to the chst," Emily said shakily as her captor lay on top of her.

"To the heart."

—

Hotch jumped into his Suburban and flipped to the third page on the list—Emily's page. He started at the location on the same street as the police department. The same man Emily had first questioned looked annoyed at being harassed again when he'd given rather solid alibis for both nights, but he had already allowed the police inside and let Hotch in, too.

"Prentiss!" Hotch barked. "Are you here?"

"Dude, look at me," the man said, pointing to his thin frame. He only stood five-foot-seven. "You think I can lock an FBI agent up somewhere? I mean, not that I wouldn't wanna. Chick had a great rack. But really."

Hotch searched the house carefully once, then stormed out and sped to the next, two police cruisers following behind him. When he saw Emily's SUV parked out front, he had the police circle the perimeter. He started to open the front door with two fingers and found that it wasn't locked.

"What about probable cause?" the nearest officer muttered.

"That's her vehicle right there," Hotch snapped impatiently before he let himself inside.

—

"Three stabs to the heart," Gray repeated. "One for each word. For how many times she stabbed _me_ in the heart. _This isn't working._ That's what she said to me. _That's what she said to me! _I saved up for a year to buy her that damn ring and she can't find it in herself to accept who I am, what I'd done?" Gray growled.

"That's horrible," Emily said. "Listen, I'll…play along. I can be Katie for you. We can even make love if you want. But not with a gun to my head and with my hands tied up. I can't get in the mood and I can't act as if I love you if I'm fearing for my life," she reasoned.

Gray said nothing in return, just took to nibbling on her neck again. Eventually, his free hand began to sneak up her shirt. The closer he got to what he wanted, the more relaxed his gun hand became, until it fell to the pillow. Just as he was about to touch his lips to Emily's, she kneed him in the crotch in one swift motion, then pushed his body off of her with her legs while he was still in shock. His head hit the corner of the nightstand and he groaned upon reaching the floor.

"You sick bastard," Emily fumed, launching off the bed and stomping on Gray's stomach.

"Emily!" Hotch called, rushing into the room at the loud sound. "Are you okay?" he asked as they rolled the groggy criminal onto his stomach to handcuff him. His erection was hard to miss and confirmed to Hotch that Emily hadn't simply been held captive.

"I'm fine," Emily said, panting as Hotch untied her restraints. "His fiancée dumped him and he couldn't get over it. He was saving her and her new husband for last. Excuse me." She left the room in a hurry, not stopping her steady pace until she found herself outside. She took in a few deep breaths and calmed herself, trying to think of anything but what had just happened.

And what had almost happened.

Hotch was content to let the police take care of the rest once he gave them as much information as he had. His primary concern was for Emily, whom he followed after in silence, letting her catch her breath and collect herself before he spoke to her. In the meantime, he made sure an officer contacted the rest of the team.

He wanted nothing more than to hold her, but wasn't sure whether they wanted to risk an officer blabbing. Even more importantly, he wasn't sure Emily would welcome any man's touch right now, even his. "I'm so sorry," he said, walking to his vehicle and hoping she would follow. She did. "Morgan was right. You shouldn't have gone alone."

"I held my own," Emily said blankly.

"True. But still, this never would've happened if you'd had someone with you. The others he took down, they were average sized, but maybe if—"

"Hotch, stop," Emily said, hugging her waist. "It's impractical to pair every agent up and get half the work done when you know two people's lives are on the line. We did what we had to do. I just…need to stop talking about it now."

"Sorry, of course," Hotch said cautiously. "Let's get you back to the station, get you—"

Emily shook her head. "I don't want to go back to the station."

Hotch withheld a sigh. "What do you need, then? Just tell me, I'll get it for you. Anything."

"Just you," Emily said, her lips rolling between her teeth. Her eyes shone as she looked pitifully up at him. "I don't want questions, I don't want the team looking at me, but I don't want to be alone. I just need you. You're the only one I trust in that way right now."

Hotch nodded and gave her a look that sought permission as his hand moved toward her shoulder. She nodded and let him grip it comfortingly. "I have an idea," he said. "How about the beach? It's getting dark out. It'll be nice and quiet there."

—

Together they looked out onto the darkening ocean when Hotch parked the SUV. Neither said a thing; they only kicked off their shoes and socks and rolled up their pant legs. Hotch considerately made sure Emily didn't watch him in the act of disrobing in any other way, waiting until her back was turned before he slipped off his jacket and popped the top button on his shirt.

"Let me just text the team really quick so no one worries," he said.

"What are you telling them?"

Hotch finished his message first, then held his hand out for Emily if she wanted it. She did and she took it, following him out onto the sand. The crowds were thinning as a cool breeze picked up. "That you're okay and you just don't want the attention or the stares right now, so we went somewhere to get a bite to eat. They'll understand that. They'll find out what happened and they won't think it suspicious at all. Not that I care about them knowing about us."

"What do you mean?"

"It's time for me to go. I'm ready for something different," Hotch confessed after a few beats. "I've thought about it a lot and I'm sure. I want more time with Jack and I don't want you and I to keep sneaking around. We deserve better. We deserve a real relationship. Not that what we've had hasn't been amazing—"

"I was looking at other jobs, too," Emily admitted, taking a moment to appreciate the warm sand beneath her feet. "All the lying is driving me up the wall, to be honest. And if I want to settle down sometime soon, start a family…" She gulped.

"I don't want you to give up your career for me," Hotch said. "You said you never would, anyway."

"I would for you."

Hotch shook his head. "Unless today makes you feel differently, I don't think you leaving this job is a good idea. You love it. And I've had my run. It's time for me to be with Jack. I missed so many firsts already and I can't stand the thought of missing more. And every time I go five days without seeing him, that's five days lost. It's time for me to be his dad, not just the guy who sees him a couple days a week."

Emily nodded her understanding. "If that's what you want to do, then I'll support that a hundred percent. I'll stay with the team until I feel it's time to leave because of…other life choices. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect." Hotch's heart warmed for the first time since he'd seen Emily's face before they'd split up for their last task. He led them gradually to the waves, letting the water rush over their feet. It was hard not to bring up the day's events when he so desperately wanted to know what had happened. Knowing wouldn't make him happy by any stretch of the imagination, but he still found it difficult to shut off the curious part of his brain. He felt rather disconnected from her as a result of being left in the dark.

"This is nice," Emily said after a while of no sound apart from the rushing water.

Hotch didn't know if there would ever be a better time. He didn't know if there would ever be a time where Emily needed to hear it more. He didn't know if there would ever be a time when it would be taken more seriously, when she would know that he meant every word. "I love you," he said without fear. "I love you, Emily. I still do. I'm not sure if I ever completely stopped."

Emily stopped in her tracks. "Me neither," she said, making sure Hotch could see her eyes in the moonlight before she spoke again. "I love you, too." Sooner than she had expected, she found herself smiling genuinely. "This feels so right, even despite all the sneaking around. Why else would we have ended up in the same place again, you know? It surely wasn't so we could just apologize to each other. We could've done that over the phone."

Hotch wished he could kiss her, hold her, do anything to show her he agreed wholeheartedly without just stating it simply. Thankfully, he found something to say that he thought might be just as effective as any physical act. "Do you believe in soul mates?" he asked her.

Emily thought this through as they walked some more. "If someone would've asked me that a few months ago, I would've laughed."

"But now?"

Emily shrugged. "Considering what might've happened to me today and the fact that I still wanted nothing more than to be alone with you…considering the fact that we've defied death together on multiple occasions and the fact that after thirteen years, you remembered my favorite kind of pizza, I'd have to say yes."

**A/N: Please leave a review! Thanks for your patience :)**


	21. Backward and Forward

**A/N: This is it! The final installment. Enjoy the glimpse into Hotch and Emily's future, as well as a look back at what their first meeting was like from Emily's point of view.**

**Genre: General**

**Flashback author: SussiRay**

**Present Day author: hotchityhotchhotch**

"She'll be fine, I promise," Hotch said for the dozenth time before Emily handed over their eight-week-old daughter to JJ.

"I don't know, maybe it's too soon for a date night," Emily said uncertainly, her arms twitching as if she were going to snatch little Mary right back from her godmother.

"Trust me, you guys need one," JJ said. "See you guys in a few hours. Say bye-bye to Mama," she cooed to the dark-haired, blue-eyed baby, grabbing her wrist to feign a wave to her parents. Jack, now five, was already in the other room, playing with some toys.

"I love you, sweetheart," Emily said, ducking in for one last kiss. The baby grabbed a couple handfuls of her mother's hair. "We won't be gone long."

"See? You can do it," Hotch said as they made their way out to the car.

"This had better be a good date night," Emily remarked.

"It will be. Don't worry. Happy anniversary."

Emily's eyes widened for a moment but she immediately returned her expression back to normal as she buckled up.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Hotch asked, guffawing.

"I'm not exactly sitting at home organizing my calendar. I'm up two or three times a night to feed the baby and I'm knee-deep in dirty diapers all day," Emily said somewhat testily.

Hotch stopped at a red light. Good timing. "Honey, it's fine," he said, his laugh much more gentle this time. "I know you're extremely busy and stressed. I figured you didn't remember when you didn't try to make plans for tonight ahead of time like you have in the past. I'm not…disappointed or anything."

Emily forced a small smile. "I'm so tired," she said with a heavy, shaky sigh.

Not prepared for a meltdown on what was supposed to be a romantic, special evening, Hotch was at a loss for words. But he pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her crown until he found something to say. "Everything tonight is relaxing and low-key, I promise. Well, except for the finale."

"Are you kidding me? Just because the doctor said eight weeks doesn't mean you need to go for it at exactly eight weeks."

"I'm not talking about sex. Just…trust me. Do you trust me?"

Emily swallowed back her tears of fatigue and nodded. "Sorry. Sometimes I feel like I never even had the baby, I'm so out of whack."

"Good thing you married just about the most patient man in the world," Hotch said, thinking about the two pedicures he'd given her the other night. After the first, Emily's face had said that it was a tad too messy, so Hotch had given it another try.

"I did. Okay, let's have a nice night. I'm ready to stop whining."

Once the light turned green, Hotch drove on with a languid smile on his face and an arm around Emily's shoulders. Suddenly, a whole new smile sneaked onto her face.

"What?" Hotch asked, enamored, paying all of his attention to Emily.

"Just remembering the first time we met," she said dreamily.

—

Emily leaned into the plush chair standing in the middle of her father's study, her feet propped on the fancy little footstool and one of the classics cracked open across her knees. The sun was shining brightly outside but she had had enough of the stifling heat and was very much content with her plans to stay inside for the rest of the day and not see anyone other than the characters in her book.

She groaned a little when the door creaked open, effectively changing those plans.

"Emily?" he mother's voice sounded. "Are you in here?"

She waited a second, debating if maybe she could get away with pretending she wasn't. Deciding not to risk it, she glanced over the back of the chair. "Here I am, Mother," she said, somewhat forcing forward a smile. "Did you need anything?"

"Oh, Emily. Good. If you would come with me for just a second I'll introduce you to Agent Hotchner."

"Who?"

"Agent Hotchner," her mother said, sounding slightly exasperated. "He's here doing security clearances. He'll be around all summer and I think it's only proper that you two are formally introduced."

Emily sank back onto the chair and rolled her eyes where her mother couldn't see. She couldn't even remember how many agents she had been "formally introduced" to over the years. Very few of them had ever seemed to have any interest in actually getting to know her. When she had been younger, ten or eleven or so, they had mostly seemed to find her a nuisance. And once she had developed breasts they had all stayed away from her under what she assumed was fear that the all-mighty Ambassador Prentiss would think they were hitting on her daughter and end their careers.

Besides, no one ever stayed longer than a couple of months, so there was never any reason for her and the agents to exchange anything other than a few polite words every now and then.

But she knew her duty as the Ambassador's daughter and so she put the fake smile back on her face and pushed herself out of the chair. "Sure, Mother," she said, "let's go meet Agent Whatshisface."

"Hotchner," Ambassador Prentiss said and frowned at her daughter, leading them down the hallway toward the foyer.

Emily walked a few steps behind her mother; making bets with herself about what Agent Hotchwhatever might look like. She was guessing he was in his early forties. Possibly blond and blue eyed. And stocky. Bad dresser. Probably smug as hell, too.

"Agent Hotchner," her mother said, breaking Emily from her thoughts.

She looked up just as the man turned around and she had to bite her lip. Okay, not blond and stocky.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said and his voice was deep and dark and reminded Emily of chocolate. His eyes widened and he looked almost a little frightened and she couldn't help but choke back a giggle at that. Anyone in their right mind would be at least a little afraid of her mother.

He was tall, dark, and handsome. Emily sighed. Obviously she was just as predictable as any other woman. But who didn't like to look a little extra at someone so classically handsome? Out of its own accord her heart beat just a little bit faster.

"Agent Hotchner," her mother said, "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Emily, she's home from Yale for the week."

Emily smiled as Agent Hotchner extended his hand. "Miss Prentiss," he said, as she took his hand in hers and shook it. He returned her smile, dimples creasing his clean shaven cheeks.

"Agent Hotchner, please, it's Emily." She gave his hand a little squeeze before letting it go.

—

Every time she got the least bit annoyed with Hotch and needed to remind herself how dearly she loved him, and sometimes just when her mind had a few free moments and she wanted to think about something beautiful, Emily thought back on their first meeting. It was an introduction that had left her with much more than butterflies in her stomach. It was a feeling she hadn't been able to explain until recently, when she'd promised herself to Hotch and when she'd borne him a child. Now, of course, she knew perfectly well why, in the thirteen years they'd gone without so much as a word from each other, no man had given her the same feeling.

"I don't remember the last time I was so full," Emily said, holding her stomach after a very expensive dinner. Much more than butterflies now. She regretted the last several bites of her decadent c_rème brûlée._

"The look on that waiter's face was priceless," Hotch said, chuckling. The young man had been somewhat affronted to be asked for a takeout box at such a refined establishment, but had agreed to bring one for Emily. When he'd returned a few minutes later with the box, Emily had already scarfed the rest of her dinner, suddenly ravenous, and had proceeded to order dessert.

"You're lucky I don't have body image issues," Emily said, rubbing her bare forearms to warm them on this chilly night. Hotch, ever the gentleman, slipped his suit jacket off and draped it over Emily's shoulders. "Mmm, thank you. I love you. For some reason I can't stop thinking about the first time we met."

"Oh yeah? Since you've had time to study the Aaron of fifteen years ago, tell me, do I get better looking with age?"

"And a few glasses of wine," Emily cracked.

"I walked right into that one. You know what?" Hotch said suddenly. "I think I want the kids with us for this next part."

"Aaron, it's nine o'clock."

"Mary always wakes up at nine or so for a feeding anyway, and no babysitter can ever get Jack to bed that soon. You know he could teach a doctorate level class on stalling."

"What's so important that the kids need to be with us?"

"You'll see."

—

"Where are we going?" Jack asked excitedly from the backseat a short time later. He was in his pajamas but wide awake.

"It's a surprise," Hotch said.

"Oh, how was work today?" Emily asked.

"It was good. I miss the BAU less and less these days. DEA is actually pretty interesting."

"I'm dreading the end of my maternity leave. I might need to make a career change myself. I like the traveling but not quite as much now that we're growing."

"Maybe you should get a different job, Emily," Jack said. "You could be a teacher. Or a doctor."

"Have I ever told you how adorable you are?" Emily asked, reaching into the backseat to jiggle Jack's knee. Though she sometimes wished for Jack to call her his mommy, too, she knew that Haley had done a lot to maintain that honor, including forgetting any grudges and working with Hotch once he left the BAU in order to alter their custody arrangement.

Soon, Hotch was weaving the family through streets that seemed awfully familiar to Emily. Then she remembered their first official date, a few years back, when Hotch had driven Emily home and she'd suddenly demanded that he pull over.

"Whose house is this?" Jack asked when Hotch stopped in the very same place without Emily's prompting.

"_This_…might to be _our_ new house," Hotch said with a quiet sort of grandiosity. He was eagerly awaiting Emily's reaction.

"Honey, there's no way we can afford this," Emily said, though her heart raced at the sight of the brick Victorian. Even its silhouette was breathtaking on its own. "It's a sweet sentiment—"

"Turns out the house has been on and off the market all this time because of…something not so attractive in the disclosure. Nothing we can't clean up." Hotch cleared his throat.

Emily figured someone had been murdered in the house and Hotch didn't want to say anything in front of Jack. The possibility didn't bother her much. As long as there weren't threats smeared in blood all over the walls, she knew she could handle it. Of course, she would be looking into what crime had occurred there before she signed off on anything.

"Plus, it needs a new roof," Hotch added, shrugging. "But it came down in price a lot because it wasn't selling. I talked to a realtor and he said he's ninety-nine percent sure it's ours if we make an offer."

"It's big," Jack remarked. "Does it have a pool?"

"Actually, it does," Hotch replied. "What do you think?" he asked Emily.

"Where do we get the money for the down payment?" she challenged him.

"We've been saving to buy another car in cash. Mine can last a few more years, though. We can use that and our rainy day money for the down payment and a roof instead. So?"

Emily closed her eyes. When she had first lain eyes on this house, she had envisioned Jack chasing a little sister around the yard, and she had felt another one along the way. She peeled her eyes open, reaching over to hold her husband close. "One condition," she whispered into his ear.

"I'm listening."

"You know how we were talking the other night about trying for one more?"

Hotch pulled back and his eyebrows twitched. Mary stirred in the back and started to fuss.

**A/N: Both authors would like to thank everyone who has stuck with this story since _January 31, 2011_. That's**** almost 3 years! We hope you loved reading it as much as we loved writing it. As always, reviews are much appreciated!**


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